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TWELFTH NIGHT 



PR 2837 
.P2 n3 
I Copy 1 



OR, WHAT YOU WILL 



^ Comelig in jFifae ^cts 



BY 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



Based upon the Prompt-Book of Miss Julia Marlowe^ with her kind 

permission 



BOSTON 
WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

1907 




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Is. ^^^i 

^^ IS f967 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



CHARACTERS. 



.^tWW-l'C"' 



iln 



Globe Theatre, Boston, Hollis St. Theatre, Boston, 
Thurs., Fed. iq, 1880. Wed., Dec. j, 1888. 



Duke Orsino. 

Valentine. 

Curio. 

Sir Toby Belch. 

Sir Andrew Aguecheek. 

Sebastian. 

Antonio. 

Malvolio. 

Clown. 

Fabian. 

Sea Captain. 

Friar. 

Viola. 

Olivia. 

Maria. 



F. W. Sanger. 

Edwin Cleary. 

R. Smith. 

H. A. Weaver, Sr. 

Charles H. Bradshaw. 

W. G. Revnier. 

L. F. Rand. 

Edward Compton. 

M. L. Leffingwell. 

W. A. Eytinge. 

J. H. Miller. 

H. A. Weaver, Jr. 

Adelaide Neilson. 

Josephine Bailey. 

Lizzie Goode. 



Robert Taber. 
Dodson Mitchell. 

E. Moore. 
Wm. F. Owen. 

F. J. Currier. 
S. E. Springer. 
Horace xMiller. 
Charles Barron. 
James Cooper. 
Albert Bruning. 
Frank Colfax. 



Julia Marlowe. 
Mary Shaw. 
Emma Hinckley. 
Sailors, Co'jrtiers, Musicians, etc., ad libitum. 



SYNOPSIS OF SCENES. 



ACT I. Scene 



ACT II. Scene 



ACT 
ACT 
ACT 



III. 

IV. 

V. 



Scene i. 

2. 



A sea-coast (in three). 
Before Olivia's house (in one). 
Orsino's palace (in two). 
Olivia's house (full stage). 
Before Olivia's house (in one). 
Olivia's cellar (full stage). 
A street (in one). 
Orsino's palace (in tw^o). 
Olivia's garden (full stage). 
Olivia's garden (full stage). 
Before Olivia's house (in one). 
Olivia's garden (full stage). 




Copyright, 1907, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 






NT 



INTRODUCTION. 



" Twelfth Night " did not appear in print during the lifetime of its 
author. It was first printed in the folio of 1623, as evidenced by the 
entry of November 8 in the Stationers* Register in that year. The 
absence of a quarto edition is little to be regretted, however, as the 
text of the play thus produced is exceptionally free from corruptions, 
its few errors being merely typographical. The best evidence of the 
date of composition of '* Twelfth Night" is afforded by the Diary of 
one John Manningham, at that time a student in the Middle Temple. 
In this there is found an entry under date of February 2, 1601, as fol- 
lows : " At our feast we had a play called ' Twelue Night, or What You 
Will,' much like The Co*mmedy of Errores, or Menechmi in Plautus, 
but most like and neere to that in Italian called Inganni. A good 
practise in it to make the Steward beleeve his Lady widowe was in love 
with him, by counterfeyting a letter as from his Lady in generall termes, 
telling him what shee liked best in him, and prescribing his gesture in 
smiling, his apparaile, etc., and then when he came to practise making 
him beleeue they took him to be mad/' How much earlier than this 
date it was wTitten and produced can only be conjectured, but it can 
scarcely be believed that the Benchers would have selected for their 
Candlemas festivity a wholly untried play. It is probable that it was 
originally performed by the Lord Chamberlain's Company, and that 
Shakespeare, at that time a member of this body, played a part in it; 
but of this there is no evidence. That the play had an established 
value from some cause or other is amply shown by the circumstance 
that the laiyyers paid for the production given before them the then 
liberal sum of ten pounds. On the authority of Halliwell, "Twelfth 
Night" was performed before James I. on Easter Monday, 161 8, and 
again at Candlemas, 1623, by the King's Servants, under the title of 
" Malvolio." It was certainly also acted occasionally after the Restora- 
tion of Charles I. In the preface of a comedy entitled " Love Betray'd, 
or The Agreeable Disappointment," by Charles Burnaby, it abundantly 
appears that this piece was merely an adaptation of " Twelfth Night," 
following the license accorded by custom in those times to dramatists 
in dealing with Shakespeare. 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

Several possible sources of the plot of " Twelfth Night " have been 
suggested: The Amphitruo, or the Menaechmi of Plautus ; a novel of 
BandellOj the Thirty-Sixth of his Collection ; a French translation of 
this Italian text, if the original is presumed to have been inaccessible 
to Shakespeare, by one Belleforest ; and a story of Barnabe Riche 
called Apolonius and Silla, in which it unmistakably appears that he 
was a student of the Belleforest translation. The resemblance of the 
play to these antecedent tales is but slight, and the suspicion that any 
one of them may have been fundamental to it rests slenderly upon the 
theory that Shakespeare w^as incapable of inventing a plot, and the 
fact that he seldom or never took the trouble to do so. Bandello's 
novel was squarely founded upon a highly popular play, WTitten and 
acted in Siena in 1531, and called " Gl' Ingannati." An adaptation 
of this is preserved in manuscript at Lambeth Palace under the title of 
" Laelia." It is in Latin, a language with which, on the testimony of 
Ben Jonson, Shakespeare was acquainted to a "small extent.'' This 
was acted at Queen's College, Cambridge, in 1590 and again in 1598, 
It is thus quite possible and certainly likely that if the poet filched his 
fable at all, he did so easily in England at his own door and with the 
least possible trouble. It is needless to say that the poetry of the play 
is entirely the invention of Shakespeare, as is also the whole comic 
plot with its dehghtful supporters, Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague- 
cheek, Malvolio and Maria. Mr. Knight has expended a great deal of 
ingenuity in an effort to reconcile the warring facts that, while Olivia? 
Orsino and their immediate entourage are Italians, the alcoholic twins, 
Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, are as English as their names ; but this 
seems a mere waste of time. The play is an embodiment of the spirit 
of Twelfth Night, a season devoted to merriment and good cheer, and 
should be approached in the same irresponsible mood that its author 
implied in the subordinate title — " What You Will." Let us co-oper- 
ate with the irreverent George Bernard Shaw in resisting a tendency to 
lake Shakespeare, drunk with animal spirits, with the same meticulous 
seriousness that we bring to the poet at his gravest and greatest. The 
orbit of his mind is a vast one and must be viewed from many and 
various standpoints. Unless approached in an accommodating spirit 
the chronology of the play offers certain difficulties. The duration of 
its action covers three days only, but its effect upon the mind of the 
spectator is much more spacious. 

Samuel Pepys, writing on September 11, 1661, records : "Walking 
througli Lincoln's Inn Fields observed at the Opera a new play 
* Twelfth Night,' was acted there, and the King there ; so I, against 



INTRODUCTION, 5 

my own mind and resolution, could not forbear to go in, which did 
make the play seem a burthen to me, and I took no pleasure at all in 
it." Again, on January 6, 1662 : "After dinner to the Duke's House, 
and there saw ' Twelfth Night ' acted w^ell, though it be but a silly play, 
and not related at all to the name or day." Once more, on January 
20, 1688: " To the Duke of York's house and saw ' Twelfth Night,* as 
it is now revived ; but I think one of the weakest plays that ever I saw 
on the stage." Downes (1662), the pioneer historian of the stage, writ- 
ing with the same or at least contemporaneous performances of the play 
in mind, uses it more justly, pronouncing it to have had a *' mighty 
success by its well performance ... all the parts being justly acted 
crowned the play." Johnson (1765) found it " exquisitely humorous," 
but was ungrateful enough to add that "it exhibits no just picture of 
life." Later writers, from Hazlitt to William Winter, have unani- 
mously cast their votes in fiat opposition to that of the first recorded 
critic of the play, the foolish Pepys, whose usual point of view was curi- 
ously like that of the typical modern theatre-goer, nothing in the acted 
drama having been found endurable by him unless accompanied by 
sounding rhetoric, horse-play, the mechanical achievements of the stage 
carpenter and scenic artist, or the seductions of singing, dancing and 
pretty women. The great magnet of the piece was to its earliest audi- 
tors, as it still is when it is presented qua play and not as the mere 
stalking-horse of some Viola or other, the abused MalvoUo. Leonard 
Digges, in his verses descriptive of this most attractive of the Shake- 
speare comedies, expresses this contemporary conception of the play, 
as follows . 

'* The cock-pit, galleries, boxes, all are full, 
To hear ISIalvolio, that cross-garter'd gull." 

And Charles I., fully sharing this idea, is said to have habitually re- 
ferred to the piece under the title of " Malvolio." The rivalry between 
the characters of Malvolio and Viola for the first place in the action is 
curiously illustrated by the fact that their opposition is said to hG,ve led 
to the separation of two players of recent times, once associated both 
matrimonially and artistically, the lady's desire to shine as Viola and 
her husband's disinclination to the part of the Steward having, it is 
understood, begun the breach between them. Fleay expresses the 
opinion that " Twelfth Night " offered to its contemporary audiences, 
among other alluring traits, certain items of personal caricature, Sir 
Toby having been intended as a portrait of Ben Jonson and Malvolio 
of John Marston. However this may have been, Malvolio is assuredly 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

adumbrated in the character of Malevole in the latter's play, *' The 
Malcontent." These little amenities serve to draw the centuries to- 
gether and to bring us nearer to the play and its meaning. That a 
good deal of this literary cudgelling went on among the robust Eliza- 
bethans there is abundant evidence. But caricature is short-lived, and 
so it has come about that "Twelfth Night" has come t-o be in the 
modern theatre a mere device for demonstrating the charms and occa- 
sionally the talents of some popular Viola or other. 

The Sir Toby that failed to please Pepys was no less actor than the 
great Betterton, and the Viola of that unappreciated cast, the first 
woman, undoubtedly, that ever played the part, was Mrs. Saunderson, 
whom he afterwards married. It was more than seventy years later 
that the next recorded performance of the play took place, when Mrs. 
Pritchard revived this comedy at Drury Lane, appearing on January 
15, 1 741, as Viola, to the Malvolio of Macklin and the Olivia of Kitty 
Clive. A few years later, on April 15, 1746, the great Peg Woffington 
offered herself in this character at the same house, again to MackUn's 
Malvolio. The Viola of Miss Plym, first seen on October 19, 1763, is 
only remembered by the irrelevant circumstance that one of the two 
sentinels posted, according to the custom of the time, on either side of 
the stage during the performance, was so far overcome by the humor 
of WilHam O'Brien, the Sir Andrew Aguecheek of the cast, that he fell 
on the floor and rolled about in an uncontrollable paroxysm of laugh- 
ter. Eight years later " Twelfth Night " was revived at Drury Lane 
by Miss Younge (Miss Pope), who appeared as Viola on December 
10, 177 1, and was closely followed in the part by her rival, Mrs. Yates, 
on March 31, 1772, at Co vent Garden, the first performance of the 
play at this theatre. On March 17, 1777, only tw^o months«after the 
death of her handsome husband, Mrs. Barry essayed the character, fol- 
lowed on August 15, 1782, by Mrs. Bulkeley, and at Covent Garden, 
May 7, 1783, by " Perdita '' Robinson. Then came the inimitable 
Dora Jordan, November 11, 1785, at Drury Lane, with Bensley as Mal- 
volio and Dodd, greatest of all Sir Andrews, among her support. To 
her supremacy in the part Charles Lamb, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hazlitt, 
Leigh Hunt and others bring expert testimony in rich abundance. It 
is very clear from their accounts that she was greatly admired, and 
partly discernible why. Viola was this lady's first serious part in Lon- 
don, and her success in it appears to have discouraged all competitors, 
since for sixteen years, until the unimportant appearance of Mrs. H. 
Johnston at Covent Garden, June 9, 1801, no new Viola appeared in 
London. 



INTRODUCTION. ^ 

On January 5, 181 1, Charles Kemble produced an "alteration" of 
the piece at Covent Garden, with Mrs. S. Booth as Viola. On Janu- 
ary 6, 18 1 3, Miss Davison acted the part at Drury Lane; on Novem- 
ber 8, 1820, Maria Tree appeared at Covent Garden in a musical adap- 
tation of "Twelfth Night," by Reynolds, frankly described by Genest 
as a "wretched piece of business.'* It was on this inauspicious occa- 
sion that Ellen Tree, then a girl of eighteen, made her debut in the 
part of Olivia. Tw^enty-seven years later, September 28, 1850, as Mrs. 
Charles Kean, she appeared as Viola at the opening performance of 
her husband's theatre — the Princess. Charlotte Cushman played 
Viola at the Haymarket in 1846, to her sister's Olivia. Laura Addison 
was Phelps' Viola at Sadler's Wells on January 26, 1848, and Mrs. 
Charles Young on January 14, 1857. In the last half century Violas 
have been Vallombrosan in number in England, and cannot be even 
reckoned within the limits of a Preface ; but from their number must 
be chosen for special honor that of Miss Ellen Terry, who appeared in 
the character at the Lyceum Theatre, to the Malvolio of Sir Henry 
Irving, on July 8, 1884, and, greatest of all, that of Adelaide Neilson, 
whose first American appearance in the part was at Daly's Fifth Avenue 
Theatre, New York, May 7, 1877. 

The first Viola in America was that of Miss Elizabeth Harrison, who 
played the part at the Boston Theatre, Federal St., May 5, 1794. The 
next was Mrs. Johnson, at the Park Theatre, New York, June 11, 1804, 
for the benefit of the popular Mr. Hallam. Honor to these early play- 
ers, for it was about all they got in return for hard work and good 
deserts. Hallam, the Clown of this cast, got twenty-five dollars a 
week for probably far better acting than is much more highly paid 
to-day; while Hogg, the Fabian,- drew only fourteen dollars weekly 
from the treasury. Indeed, at the opening of the century fifty dollars 
a week is recorded as the largest salary ever paid to an actor in this 
country. 

Prices of admission at the Park Theatre in 1804 were $1.00, 50 cents 
and 25 cents, and the house held on an average ^700. Dunlap speaks 
of receipts of ^1245 as being the high-water mark for a single perform- 
ance in 1803, and this was bestowed upon what he candidly describes 
as "vile trash." Times do not appear to have very greatly changed. 
Mrs. Henry played Viola at the Park Theatre, New York, in 1825, but 
until the Burton productions of March 29, 1852, at Burton's Theatre, 
New York, and of January 17, 1858, at Tripler Hall, in the same city, 
the play was dormant in America so far as any notable revivals were 
concerned. Lizzie Weston was the Viola of the first Burton cast and, 



S INTRODUCTION. 

as lAzzie W. Davenport, of the second as well ; but the greatest strength 
was in the Sir Toby of W. E. Burton and in the Malvolios of W. R. 
Blake and Charles Fisher. 

In the 1852 cast J. Lester, otherwise Lester Wallack, was the Sir 
Andrew Aguecheek ; in the 1858 cast Charles J. Mathews played that 
part, and Lawrence P. Barrett appeared as Sebastian, the heroine's 
brother. Sebastian has always been a difficulty in stage productions of 
this play because of the clost resemblance demanded between Viola 
and her brother, Dora Jordan solved the problem by having her own 
brother, Mr. Bland, play the part, w^hile W. Mun-ay, Mrs. Henry Sid- 
dons' brother, later employed to the advantage of the play a similar 
natural resemblance. The custom of the German stage has always 
been for the same player to enact both parts, a mute " double*' serv- 
ing to end the play by dint of some slight shuffling of the text. In 
1869 Miss Kate Terry first played both parts in this fashion on the 
English stage. Later Violas in the United States w^ere Clara Fisher 
(Mrs, Maeder), Julia Bennett Barrows, the latter greatly esteemed as 
an actress by Edwin Forrest, Mrs. Mary Shaw, Mrs. Hoey, who ap- 
peared at Wallack's Lyceum, New York, May 24, 1856, to the Sir 
Toby Belch of John Brougham, and Mrs. Scott-Siddons, who first ap- 
peared in the part in America in New York, October 4. 1869. -^ Y^^^ 
later, on December 12, 1870, Miss Agnes Ethel was seen in the char- 
acter at the Fifth Avenue Theatre in New York, to the notable Malvolio 
of William Davidge. Cissie Loftus has also been seen as Viola, Rob- 
son and Crane have adventured the parts of Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, 
and Harry Dixey that of Malvolio. 

In recent years five Violas have appealed to American theatre-goers 
with notable success — one Irish, one English, one Polish and two of 
native birth. Ada Rehan, who began life as Ada Crehan, and was re- 
christened by a typographical error, was first seen in this character at 
Daly's Theatre, New York, February 21, 1893. Miss Julia Marlowe's 
first appearance in the play of "Twelfth Night" was in the part of 
Maria in support of Josephine Reilley, a popular Viola in the West. 
Viola was Miss Marlowe's third Shakespearean character, and was 
first played by her December 14, 1887, at the Star Theatre, New York. 
Mme. Helena Modjeska first appeared in the part at the Union Square 
Theatre, New York, November 4, 1877. Miss Marie Wainwright was 
one of the six Juliets that supported the Romeo of Mr, George Rig- 
nold, a seductive actor of the recent past, at Booth's Theatre, May 30, 
1877, having made her debut in this part at the same theatre on the 
17th, She first appeared as Viola at Tompkins' Fifth Avenue Theatre, 



"«« 



INTRODUCTION. g 

New York, December i6, 1889. The more recent performance of 
Miss Viola Allen is still accessible to the theatre-goer of the day. 

"Twelfth Night" is not among the Shakespearean plays that have 
attracted foreign taste and admiration, for reasons that are not far to seek, 
though the play has been acted in Germany to some slight vogue perhaps 
as an incident merely of its author's general popularity in that coun- 
try. In France it has appeared successfully under the title " Conte 
d'Avril," a comedy in four acts, in verse, by Augusta Dorchain, pro- 
duced at the Odeon, Paris, September 22, 1885. The Viola was Mme. 
Barety, the MalvoUo, Kereval. Sir Toby appeared in this version 
under the alias Quinapolus. To opera librettists "Twelfth Night" 
has made quite naturally an exceptional appeal. The following works 
exist taken from this source : " Cesario." Three acts. Music by 
Steinkuhler. Dusseldorf, 1848. " Cesario." Three acts. Music by 
W. Taubert. Libretto by E. Taubert. Berlin, November 13, 1874. 
"Viola.'' Three acts. Music by Karl Weiss. Prague, January 17, 
1892. "Viola." Book by Genee. Music by A. Arensen. Hamburg, 
March 16, 1893. "Viola." Music by R. Heuberger ; not yet pro- 
duced. Smetana of Bohemia was at work on an opera of this title 
from this source when he was seized with madness. 

F. E. Chase. 
A/^tljo, igoy. 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — The sea-coast. Scene in three. 

LIGHTS down. 

Enter Viola, a Sea Captain, and two Sailors, l. 3 e., carry- 
ing a trunk, 
near r. 2 E. 



ing a trunk, 2 he latter cross behind and stand during scene 



Viola {to c, leaning on Captain's arni). What country, 
friends, is this ? 

Captain. This is Illyria, lady. 

Viola. And what should I do in Illyria ? 
My brother he is in Elysium. 
Perchance he is not drowned — what think you, sailors ? 

Capt. (r. c). It is perchance that you yourself were saved. 

Viola. Oh, my poor brother ! and so perchance may he 
be. (Goes up a?td looks offi.. 3 e.) 

Capt. True, madam ; and, to comfort you with chance, 
Assure yourself, after our ship did split. 
When you and those poor number saved with you 
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, 
Most provident in peril, bind himself. 
Courage and hope both teaching him the practice, 
To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ; 
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, 
I saw him hold acquaintance with the weaves 
So long as I could see. 

Viola {back to c). For saying so, there's gold. {Gives 
him money,) 

II 



12 TWELFTH NjGHT, 

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, 
Whereto thy speech serves for authority, 
The like of him. Knows't thou this country ? 

Capt. Ay, madam, well ; for I was bred and born 
Not three hours' travel from this very place. 

Viola. Who governs here ? 

Capt. A noble Duke, in nature as in name — Orsino. 

Viola. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him. 
He was a bachelor then. 

Capt. And so is now^ Or was so very late. 
For but a month ago I w^ent from hence. 
And then 'twas fresh in murmur, as, you know% 
What great ones do the less wall prattle of, 
That he did seek the love of fair Olivia — 
A virtuous maid, the daughter of a Count 
That died some twelvemonth since ; then leaving her 
In the protection of his son, her brother. 
Who shortly also died ; for whose dear love 
They say she hath adjured the company 
And sight of men. 

Viola. Oh, that I served that lady 1 
And might not be delivered to the w^orld 
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow 
What my estate is I {Turns pensively down r. c, turnmg fro?7i 
R. to l.) 

Capt. That w^ere hard to compass ; 
Because she wall admit no kind of suit, 
No, not the Duke's. 

READY change* 

Viola. There is a fair behavior in thee, captain, 
And though that nature wdth a beauteous wall 
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
I will believe thou hast a mind that suits 
With this thy fair and outward character. {To c.) 
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously. 
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid 
For such disguise as, haply, shall become 
The form of my intent. I'll serve this Duke ; 
Thou shalt present me as a page unto him, 
Of gentle breeding, and my name Cesario. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 13 

That trunkj.the reliques of my sea-drowned brother, 

Will furnish man's apparel to my need. 

It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing 

And speak to him in many sorts of music, 

That will allow me very worth his service. 

What else may hap to time I will commit, 

Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. 

Capt. Be you his page, and I your mute will be ; 
When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see 1 

Viola. I thank thee. Lead me on. 

Exeunt, r. 2 e., leaning on Captain ; Sailors /o/low. 

CHANGE set 

Scene II. Before 0\av\pCs house. Scene in one. 

LIGHTS full tip. 
Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria, r. i e. 

Sir Toby (c, sullenly snapping a riding whip). What a 
plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus ? 
I'm sure care's an enemy to life. 

Maria (r. c). By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in 
earlier o'nights ; your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions 
to your ill hours. 

Sir T. Why, let her except before excepted. 

Maria. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the 
modest limits of order. 

Sir T. Confine ? I'll confine myself no finer than I 
am ; these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be 
these boots too ; an they be not, let them hang themselves 
in their own straps. (^Goes l.) 

Maria. That quaffing and drinking will undo you. (Sir 
Towi protests in pantomime.) I heard my lady talk of it yes- 
terday ; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night 
here to be her wooer. 

Sir T. Who ? Sir Andrew Aguecheek ? {Returns l. c.) 

Maria. Ay, he. 

Sir T. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. 

Maria. What's that to the purpose ? 

Sir T. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. 



1 4 TWELFTH NIGHT. 

Maria. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats ; 
he's a very fool and a prodigal. 

Sir T. Fie, that you'll say so ! he plays o'the viol-de- 
gamboys, and speaks three or four languages, word for word, 
without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. 

Maria. He hath, indeed, all most natural ; for, besides 
that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller ; and, but that he 
hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrel- 
ling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have 
the gift of a grave. 

Sir T. By this hand, they are scoundrels and substract- 
ors that say so of him. Who are they ? 

Maria. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in 
your company. 

Sir T. With drinking healths to my niece ! I'll drink to 
her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in 
lUyria I He's a coward and a coystril that will not drink to 
my niece till his brains turn o'the toe like a parish top ! 

Sir Andrew (outside). Sir Toby Belch ! Sir Toby Belch ! 

Sir T. Castiliano vulgo ! for here comes Sir Andrew Ague- 
face. 

Enter Sir Andrew, l. i e. 

Sir a. Sir Toby Belch, how now I Sir Toby Belch 1 

Sir T. (c). Sweet Sir Andrew ! {Slaps him o?i back.) 

Sir a. Bless you, fair shrew. {Bowing low to Maria, 
hat off^ 

Maria {curtseys). And you too, sir. 

Sir T. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost ! {Nudging him,) 

Sir a. What's that ? 

Sir T. My niece's chambermaid. 

Sir a. {crosses to c. ; Sir Toby to l. c). Good Mistress 
Accost, I desire better acquaintance. {Bowing again low), 

Maria (r .c). My name is Mary, sir. {Curtseys.) 

Sir a. Good Mistress Mary Accost — (Sir Toby eft- 
courages him.) 

Sir T. You mistake, knight; accost is front her, board 
her, woo her, assail her 

Sir a. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this 
company. Is that the meaning of accost ? 

Maria. Fare you well, gentlemen. {Crosses to l., laughing,) 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 



IS 



Sir T. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, \vould thou 
might'st never draw sword again. {Fu/li?ig him over.) 

Sir a. (c). An you part so, mistress, I would I might 
never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have 
fools in hand ? 

Maria (l. c). Sir, I have not you by the hand. 

Sir a. Marry, but you shall have ; and here's my hand. 

Maria (takes his ha?id, smiling over to Sir Toby). Now, 
sir, thought is free. I pray you bring your hand to the but- 
tery bar and let it drink. 

Sir a. Wherefore, sweetheart ? What's your metaphor ? 

Maria. It's dry, sir. 

Sir a. Why, I think so ; I am not such an ass but I can 
keep my hand dry. But what's your jest ? 

Maria. A dry jest, sir. 

Sir a. Are you full of them ? 

Maria. Ay, sir ; I have them at my fingers' ends ; marry 
{slaps his hand as she lets it go)^ now I let go your hand, I am 
barren. 

Exit, laughing^ l. i e. 

Sir T. (r. c, laughi?ig). Oh, knight, thou lack'st a cup of 
canary ; when did I see thee so put down ? 

Sir a. Never in your life, I think, unless you see canary 
put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than 
a Christian or an ordinary man has ; but I am a great eater 
of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit. 

Sir T. No question. 

Sir a. An I thought that I'd forswear it. I'll ride home 
to-morrow% Sir Toby. 

Sir T. Pourquoy^ my dear knight ? 

Sir a. What \s pourqtwy ? do or not do ? I would I had 
bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, 
dancing and bear baiting. Oh, had I but followed the 
artsl 

Sir T. Then had'st thou an excellent head of hair. 

Sir a. Why, would that have mended my hair ? (Brush- 
ing it with his hand I) 

Sir T. Past question ; for thou seest it will not curl by 
nature. 

Sir a. But it becomes me well enough, does't not ? 



1 6 TWELFTH NIGHT 

Sir T. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I 
hope to see a housewife take thee and spin it off. 

Sir a. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your 
niece will not be seen ; or if she be, it's four to one she'll 
none of me. The Duke himself, here hard by, w^oos her. 

Sir T She'll none o' the Duke ; she'll not match above 
her degree, neither in estate, years, nor w^t. I have heard 
her swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. {Both hands on 
Sir Andrew's shoulders) 

Sir a. I'll stay a month longer. (Shaking him warmly 
by the hands) I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the 
w^orld. I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. 
{Rubbing his hands gleefully) 

Sir T. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight ? 

Sir a. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be under 
the degree of my betters ; and yet I will not compare with an 
old man. 

READY change. 

Sir T. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight ? 

Sir a. 'Faith, I can cut a caper. {Dances) 

Sir T. And I can cut the mutton to't. 

Sir a. And I think I have the back trick simply as 
strong as any man in Illyria. {Pose) 

Sir T. Wherefore are these things hid ? Wherefore have 
these gifts a curtain before them ? Are they like to take 
dust, like Mistress Mall's picture ? Why dost thou not go to 
church in a galliard and come home in a coi:anto ? iNly very 
walk should be a jig. What dost thou mean ? Is it a world 
to hide virtues in ? I did think by the excellent constitution 
of thy leg it was formed under the star of a galliard. 

Sir a. {highly flattered). Ay, 'tis strong, and it does in- 
different well in a damask colored stock. Shall we set about 
some revels ? 

Sir T. What shall ^ve do else ? Were we not born under 
Taurus ? 

Sir a. Taurus .'^ That's sides and heart. 

Sir T. No, sir ; it is legs and thighs. {Poking at his legs ; 
Sir Andrew dances a7id retreats laughing) Let me see thee 
caper. Ha 1 higher — ha I ha ! — excellent I 

Exeunt, l. i e. CHANGE set. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



17 



Scene III. — A room in the Duke Orsino's palace. Scene in 

two. 

{Discovered^ the Duke, seated on couch^ l. c, attended by Curio 
and Gentlemen, standing r. c.) 

MUSIC at rise off R* 
LIGHTS full up. 

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on ; 
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting. 
The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
That strain again ; it had a dying fall. 
Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south. 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing and giving odor. 

Enough — no more I (Curio goes up c, looki7ig off r.„ and 
signals^ 

MUSIC stops. 
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. 

Curio {coming r. c). Will you go hunt, my lord ? 

Duke. What, Curio? 

Curio. The hart. 

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have. 
Oh, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
Methought she purged the air of pestilence ; 
That instant was I turned into a hart. 
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, 
E'er since pursue me. 

Enter Valentine, Q„from r. 

How now ? What news from her ? 
Valentine. So please, my lord, I might not be admitted ; 
But from her handmaid do return this answer : 
The element itself, till seven years' heat, 
Shall not behold her face at ample view ; 
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, 
And water once a day her chamber round 
With eye-offending brine. All this, to season 



1 8 TWELFTH NIGHT. 

A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh 
And lasting in her sad remembrance. 

Duke. Oh, she that hath a heart of that fine frame 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
How will she love when the rich golden shaft 
Hath killed the flock of all affections else 
That live in her ? Who saw Cesario, ho ? 

(Valentine up to c. arch; signals qffi.. ; drops r. ^c.) 

Enter Viola, c.from l. 

Viola (c, doffing cap). On your attendance, my lord ; here. 

Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. {Ail Courtiers bow^ go 
tip a?id exeunt, c. to l.) Cesario, 
Thou knowest no less but all ; I have unclasped 
To thee the book even of my secret soul. 
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her ; 
Be not denied access, stand at her doors 
And tell them there thy fixed foot shall grow 
Till thou have audience. 

Viola. Sure, my noble lord, 

If she be so abandoned to her sorrow 
As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 

Duke {seated!., c). Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds. 
Rather than make unprofited return. 

Viola. Say I do speak with her, my lord ; what then ? 

Duke. Oh, then unfold the passion of my love. 
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith. 
It shall become thee well to act my woes ; 
She will attend it better in thy youth 
Than in a nuncio of more grave aspect. 

READY change. 

Viola. I think not so, my lord. 

Duke (rising ; goes c). Dear lad, believe it {his hand on 
her left shoulder) ; 
For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
That say thou art a man. Diana's Hp 
Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe 
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill in sound. 
And all is semblative a woman's part. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 19 

I know thy constellation is right apt 

For this affair. {She drops r. c.) Go 1 {Goes to c. arch^ 

Prosper well in this, 
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, 
To call his fortunes thine. 

Exit Duke, c. to l. 

Viola. I'll do my best 

To woo your lady. Yet — a barful strife 1 — 
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. 

Exit, R. 2 E. CHANGE set* 

Scene IV. — A room in Olivia's house. Full stage. 
Enter Clown a7id Maria, cfrom r. She has him by the ear, 

Maria. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I 
will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way 
of thy excuse. {Releasing him ; he drops r. c.) My lady 
will hang thee for thy absence. {Goes up c, looking offi..) 

Clown. Let her hang me 1 Many a good hanging pre- 
vents a bad marriage. 

Maria {drops c. ; then crosses^ Here comes my lady. 
Make your excuse wisely, you were best. 

Exit, L. 3 E. 

Clown. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! 
Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools ; 
and I that am sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man ; for 
what says Quinapalus ? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit. 
{Goes L. c, turning.) 

Enter Olivia, c.from i.., preceded by Malvolio, backing and 
bowijig^ and two Ladies. 

Malvolio. God bless thee, lady. 

Olivia. Take the fool away. {Crosses and sits on bench 
R. ; Malvolio r. c, up.) 



2 o TWELFTH NlGh 7\ 

Clown {tiirni7ig). Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away 
the lady. 

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool ; I'll no more of you ; be- 
sides, you grow dishonest. 

Clown. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good coun- 
sel will amend ; for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool 
not dry; bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend 
he is no longer dishonest ; if he cannot, let the botcher mend 
him. The lady bade take away the fool ; therefore^ I say 
again, take her away. 

Oll Sir, I bade them take away you. 

Clown. Misprision in the highest degree I Lady, cuadlus 
non facit monachiwi ; that's as much as to say, I wear not 
motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove 
you a fool. 

Oli. Can you do it ? 

Clown. Dexteriously, good madonna. 

Oli. Make your proof. 

Clown {comes c). I must catechise you for it, madonna ; 
good my mouse of virtue, answer me. {Folding his arms.) 

Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your 
proof. {Motions to Lady, r., who drops dow7i r. and fans her.) 

Clown. Good madonna, why mourn 'st thou ? 

Oli. Good fool, for my brother's death. 

Clown. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. 

Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 

Clown. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your 
brother's soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentle- 
men. 

Oli. What think you of this fool, Mai vol io ? Doth he 
not mend ? 

Mal. Yes ; and shall do till the pangs of death shake 
him ; infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the bet- 
ter fool. 

Clown. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity for the 
better increasing your folly. Sir Toby will be sworn that I 
am no fox ; but he will not pass his word for two-pence that 
you are no fool. {Sits o?i edge of table, l. c.) 

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ? 

Mal. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a bar- 
ren rascal. I saw him put down the other day with an ordi- 



TWELFTH NIGHT 2 X 

nary fool that has no more brain than a stone. (Clown slides 
off table discojicerted^ Look you, now, he's out of his guard 
already ; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he 
is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men that crow so at 
these set kind of fools to be no better than the fools' zanies. 

Oli. Oh, you are sick of self-love, MalvoHo, and taste 
with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless and 
of free disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts that 
you deem cannon-bullets. There is no slander in an allowed 
fool, though he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a 
known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. 

Clown {j'lms across and takes faii fro7n Lady and fans 
Olivia, lying at her feet). Now Mercury endue thee with 
leasing, for thou speak'st well of fools ! 

Enter Marla, c.from l. 

Maria. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman 
much desires to speak with you. {Gets c.) 

Oli. From the Duke Orsino, is it ? 

Maria. I know not, madam. 

Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ! 

Maria. Sir Toby, madam ; your kinsman. 

Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you ; he speaks nothing but 
madman. Fie on him ! (Exit Maria, c. to l.) Go you, 
Malvolio ; if it be a suit from the Duke, I am sick, or not at 
home — what you will to dismiss it. (Exit Malvolio, c 
to L., bowifigi) Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, 
and people dislike it. 

Clown. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest 
son should be a fool. 

Sir T. (outside, l.). Where is she ? Where is she ? 

Clown. Whose skull Jove cram with brains, for here 
comes one of thy kin has a most weak//<^ mater. {Drops l. c.) 

Enter Sir Toby, cfro7n l. 

Oli. By mine honor, half drunk 1 What is he at the 
gate, cousin ? 

Sir T. (c). A gentleman. 

Oli. a gentleman ? What gentleman ? 



2 2 TWELFTH NIGHT. 

Sir T. ^Tis a gentleman here. (Clown goes to him on l., 
supporting him.) How now, sot ? 

Clown. Good Sir Toby — 

Oll Cousin, cousin ! how have you come so early by 
this lethargy? (Ci^owi^ jing/es baulk; Sir Toby strikes it 
aside ^ 

Sir T. Lechery ! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. 

Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he ? 

Sir T. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not. 
(Throws off Clown.) Give me faith, say I. Well, it's all 
one. {Hiccoughs^ A plague o' these pickle-herrings. 

Exit, r. 2 E. CiuOW^ follows him laughi?tg to l. c. ; turns, 

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ? 

Clown (c). Like a drowned man, a fool and a madman ; 
one draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads 
him and the third drowns him. 

Oli. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my 
coz; for he's in the third degree of drink — he's drowned. 
Go, look after him. 

Clown. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall 
look to the madman. 

Exit, r. 2 E. 

Enter Malvolio, cfrom l., bowing, 

Mal. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak 
with you. I told him you were sick ; he takes on him to un- 
derstand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. 
I told him you were asleep ; he seems to have a fore-knowl- 
edge of that, too, and therefore comes to speak with you. 
What is to be said to him, lady ? He's fortified against any 
denial. 

Oli. Tell him he shall not speak with me. 

Mal. He has been told so ; and he says he'll stand at 
your door like a sheriff's post, or be the supporter to a bench, 
but he'll speak with you. 

Oli. What kind of man is he ? 

Mal. Why, of man kind. 

Oli. What manner of man ? 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



23 



Mal. Of very ill manner ; he'll speak with you, will you 
or no. 

Oli. Of what personage and years is he ? 

JMal. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough 
for a boy ; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling 
when 'tis almost an apple. It is with him e'en standing 
water, between boy and man. He is very well favored, and 
he speaks very shrewishly ; one would think his mother's 
milk were scarce out of him. 

Oli« Let him approach ; call in my gentlewoman. 

Mal. (at door). Gentlewoman, my lady calls. 

Exit, c. to L. 

Enter Maria, Q,from l. 

Oli. Give me my veil. 
Come, throw it o'er my face ; (Maria does so ; goes up c. and 

beckons off l. to Viola, then drops to table ^ l. c.) 
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. 

Enter Viola, Q^froin l. 

Viola. The honorable lady of the house, which is she ? 

Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her — your will 1 

Viola. Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty — 
{Looking about,) I pray you tell me if this be the lady of the 
house, for I never saw her. I would be loath to cast away 
my speech ; for, besides that it is excellently well penned, I 
have taken great pains to con it. 

Oli. Whence came you, sir ? 

Viola. I can say little more than I have studied, and 
that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me 
modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may 
proceed in my speech. 

Oli. Are you a comedian ? 

Viola. No, my profound heart; and yet by the very 
fangs of malice I swear I am not that I play. Are you the 
lady of the house ? 

Oli. If I do not usurp myself I am. 



24 TWELFTH NIGHT 

Viola. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp your- 
self ; for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. 
But this is from my commission ; I will on with my speech 
in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message. 

Oli. Come to what is important in't ; I forgive you the 
praise. 

Viola. Alas 1 I took great pains to study it, and 'tis 
poetical. 

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned. I pray you, keep 
it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your 
approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you 
be not mad, begone ; if you have reason, be brief. 'Tis not 
that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dia- 
logue. 

Maria (l. c). Will you hoist sail, sir ? Here lies your 
way. {Feints offi..) 

Viola (c). No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a little 
longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. 

Oli. Speak your office. 

Viola. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture 
of war — no taxation of homage. I hold the olive in my 
hand ; my words are as full of peace as matter. 

Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you ? What 
would you? 

Viola. The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I 
learned from my entertainment. What I am and what I 
would are to your ears divinity ; to any other's, profanation. 

Oli. Give us the place aione ; we will hear this divinity. 

(Ladies go up and o?if, c. to l. Maria, at Olivia's order^ 
tosses her head at Viola a7id exits, l. 2 e.) 

Now, sir, what is your text ? 

Viola. Most sweet lady — 

Oli, a comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of 
it. Where lies your text ? 

Viola. In Orsino's bosom. 

Oli. In his bosom ? In what chapter of his bosom ? 

Viola. To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. 

Oli. Oh, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you no 
more to say ? 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 2 S 

Viola. Good madam, let me see your face. 

Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to nego- 
tiate with my face ? You are now out of your text ; but we 
will draw the curtain and show you the picture. Look you 
(rising), sir, such a one I was this present ; is't not well 
done ? ( Unveiling?) 

Viola. Excellently done, if God did all. 

Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. 

Viola. 'Tis beauty truly blent, w^hose red and white 
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. 
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive. 
If you will lead these graces to the grave 
And leave the world no copy. 

Oli. Oh, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted. I will give 
out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried, 
and every particle and utensil labelled to my will ; as, item, 
two Hps, indifferent red; item, two gray eyes, with lids to 
them ; item, one neck, one chin ; and so forth. Were you 
sent hither to praise me ? 

Viola. I see you what you are, you are too proud ; 
But if you were the devil you are fair. 
My lord and master loves you ; oh, such love 
Could be but recompensed, though you were crowned 
The nonpareil of beauty ! 

Oli. (^goes nearer). How does he love me ? 

Viola. With adorations, fertile tears, 
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. (Pause ; 
Olivia recovers herself.) 

Oli. Your lord does know my mind ; I cannot love him. 
He might have took his answer long ago. 

Viola. If I did love you in my master's flame, 
With such a suffering, such a deadly Ufe, 
In your denial I would find no sense, 
I would not understand it. 

Oli. Why, what would you ? 

Viola. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the house ; 
Write loyal cantons of contemned love. 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; 
Holla your name to the reverberate hills. 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 



2^ TWELFTH NIGHT, 

Cry out, Olivia ! Oh, you siiould not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth. 
But you should pity me. 

Oli. {after a pause). You might do much. What is your 
parentage ? 

Viola. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. {Back to 
audience.) 
I am a gentleman. 

Oli. (sighs). Get you to your lord. {Turnifig away, r.) 

I cannot love him ; let him send no more — - 

(Viola ^^^i" up c, tur?iing fro7n l. to r. ; Olivia turning sud- 
denly.^ 

Unless, perchance, you come to me again 
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you w^ell ; 
I thank you for your pains — spend this forme. {Goes to 
her, c, offering purse.) 
Viola. I am no fee'd post, lady ; keep your purse ; 
My master, not myself, lacks recompense. {Lets purse fall.) 
Love make his heart of flint that you shall love ; 
And let your fervor, like my master's, be 
Placed in contempt ! Farewell, fair cruelty. 

Exit, c. to L. 

Oli. {after pause, goes to c. door ; looking after Viola). 
What is your parentage ? 

" Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. {Comes down.) 
I am a gentleman." {Picks up purse.) I'll be sworn thou art ; 
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, action and spirit. 
Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast — soft I soft I 

{Crossi?ig R. c.) 
Unless the master were the man. How now? 
Even so quickly may one catch the plague. {Goes l. c.) 
Methinks I feel this youth's perfections 
With an invisible and subtle stealth 
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. 
What ho, Malvolio ! {Strikes bell on table, l.) 

READY change. 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 27 

Enter Malvolio, cfrom l., bowing. 

Mal. (c). Here, madam, at your service. 

Oli. {going to him). Run after that same peevish messenger, 
Orsino's man ; he left this ring behind him, 
Would I or not. Tell him I'll none of it. 
Desire him not to flatter with his lord. 
Nor hold him up with hopes. I am not for him. {Gives him 

ring?) 
If that the youth will come this w^ay to-morrow, 
I'll give him reasons for't. {To r. c, turning^ Hie thee, 
Malvolio. 

Mal. Madam, I will. 

Exit, c. to L. 

Oli. I do I know not what ; and fear to find 
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. {Goes up c.) 
Fate, show thy force ; ourselves we do not ow^e ; 
What is decreed must be, and be this so 1 

Exit c. to L., quickly. 

CHANGE set. 

Scene V. — Before Olivia's house. Set in one. 

Enter Viola and Mauw 01.10 following, l. i e. As Viola, en- 
tering first, reaches c, Malvolio calls outside^ " Sir, sir! 
youfig gentleman ! '^ Viola pauses c. 

Mal. Sir, sir 1 — young gentleman 1 {Entering^ Were 
not you even now with the Countess Olivia ? 

Viola {slowly moves to l. c). Even now, sir. 

Mal. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you might have 
saved me my pains to have taken it away yourself. {Hold- 
ing it out.) She adds, moreover, that you should put your 
lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him. (Viola 
starts to go.) And one thing more, that you be never so 
hardy to come again in his affairs unless it be to report your 
lord's taking of this. Receive it so. {Places ring on the end 
of his staff and so offers it.) 



^8 TWELFTH NIGHT 

Viola. She took the ring of me ? I'll none of it. 

Mal. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ; and her 
will is it should be so returned. {Throivs the rmg on the 
groimd.) If it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your 
eye ; if not, be it his that finds it. 

Exit, L. I E. 

WARN curtain. 

Viola {takes up the ring). I left no ring with her ; what 
means this lady ? 
Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her 1 
She made good view of me ; indeed, so much 
That, sure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue, 
For she did speak in starts distractedly. 
She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion 
, Invites me in this churlish messenger. 
None of my lord's ring ! Why, he sent her none. 
I am the man 1 If it be so, as 'tis, 
Poor lady ! she were better love a dream. 
How will this fadge ? My master loves her dearly ; 
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ; 
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. 
What will become of this ? As I am man. 
My state is desperate for my master's love ; 
As I am woman — now, alas ! the day ! — 
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe ! 



RING curtain. 



Gh, time, thou must untangle this, not I ; 
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. 

Exit, R. I E. 
CURTAIN. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 2 9 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — A room m Olivia's house. Full stage. 

Sir Toby and Sir Andrew discovered at table l., drinking and 
smoking. Large bowl on table 7vith ladle. Sir Toby r. 
of table, Sir Andrew, l. Sir Toby is filling his glass 
with ladle as scene opens. Two candles on table y one lighted. 

Sir T. Approach, Sir Andrew ; not to be a-bed after 
midnight is to be up betimes; and diluculo surgere^ thou 
know'st — 

Sir a. Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know to be 
up late is to be up late. 

Sir T. a false conclusion ; I hate it as an unfilled can. 
{Drinks.) To be up after midnight and to go to bed then is 
early ; so that, to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed 
betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements ? 

Sir a. 'Faith, so they say ; but I think it rather consists 
of eating and drinking. {Drinks.) 

Sir T. Thou art a scholar ; let us therefore eat and 
drink. {Drinks.) Marian, I say ! a stoup of wine 1 (Found- 
ing table with empty tankard.) 

{The Clown sings without, ^' Hey, Robin, Jolly Fobift, tell me 
how thy lady does ? '') 

Sir a. Here comes the fool, i'faith. 

Enter Clown, c.from r. He Jumps on chair c, back of table, 
and sits o?i back. 

Clown. How now, my hearts ? Did you never see the 
picture of we three ? {Futs hands to ears and wags them ; all 
laugh ^ 

Sir T. • Welcome, ass ; now let's have a catch. 

Sir a. By my troth ! the fool has an excellent breast. I 
had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg and so sweet 
a breath to sing as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very 



30 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest Pigrogromitus 
of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Quebus ; 'twas very 
good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman ; hadst it ? 

Clown. I did impeticos thy gratillity ; for Malvolio's 
nose is no whipstock. {Laiigk.) My lady has a white hand, 
and the Myrmidons are no bottle ale-houses. {Laugh.) 

Sir a. Excellent ! Why, this is the best fooling w^hen all 
is done. Now, a song. 

Sir T. Come on ; shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch 
that will draw three souls out of one weaver ? Shall we do 
that ? 

Sir a. An you love me, let's do't ; I am a dog at a catch. 

Clown. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. 
(^Laugh.) 

Sir a. Begin, fool. It begins {sings), "Hold thy peace." 

Clown. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. {All 
laugh) 

Sir A. Good, i'faith ! Come, begin. {All three si?ig catch,) 
Christmas comes but once a year. 
And therefore we'll be merry. 

Enter Maria, cfrom l., coming c. 

Maria {speaking low). What a caterwauling do you keep 
here ! If my lady have not called up her steward, Malvolio, 
and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. 

Sir T. My lady's a Catalan ; we are politicians. (Sir 
Toby offers her a drink fro7n his tankard, which she takes in 
both hands for the purpose) Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsay. 
{Sings,) " And three merry men be we." 

Sir a. {sings). '' And three merry men be w^e." 

Sir T. Am I not consanguineous ^ Am I not of her 
blood ? Tilly-valley, lady ! {Sings.) " There dwelt a man 
in Babylon, lady, lady ! " 

Sir a. {sings). " Lady " — 

Clown. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. 

Sir a. Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so 
I do too ; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more 
natural. {Sings.) '' Lady " — {All laugh.) 

Sir T. Let us have another. {All rise but Maria, who 
tries to stop them) 



TWELFTH NIGHT 3 1 

Which is the properest day to drink, 
Saturday — Sunday — Monday ? 
Maria. For the love of God, peace ! {As they dance to 
c. she goes to c. door cvid looks offi.^ 

Enter Malvolio, cfrom l., /;/ a g07vn and cap, with a candle. 
They dajice roujtd him in a circle for a tjirn, the7i separate, 
Sir Toby and Clown to l. c. Sir Andrew, r. c, Maria 
up L. Pause, 

Mal. My masters, are you mad, or what are you ? 

Sir a. (sings). " Monday " — 

Mal. Have you no wit, manners nor honesty but to gab- 
ble like tinkers at this time of night ? (Sir Andrew, dazed, 
staggers to c. Malvolio raises ca?idle a7td surveys him sternly. 
He goes up r.) Do ye make an ale-house of my lady's house ? 

Sir T. {sings). '' Saturday." 

Mal. Is there no respect of place, persons nor time in 
you? 

(Maria, behi7id table, plucks at Toby's sleeve^ 

Sir T. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up ! 

Mal. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady 
bade me tell you that, though she harbors you as her kins- 
man, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can sep- 
arate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to 
the house ; if not, an' it would please you to take leave of 
her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. 

Sir T. {si?tgs). '' Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs 
be gone." {Turns and falls l. c.) 

Maria (l. of hint). Nay, good Sir Toby. 

Clown {sings). '' His eyes do show his days are almost 
done." {Holdijig Sir Toby up^ 

Mal. Is't even so ? 

Sir T. {sings). " But I will never die." {Falls on the 
floor, L. c; 

Clown {sings). " Sir Toby, there you he." {Sits astride of 
him.) 

Mal. This is much credit to you. 

Sir T. {as Clown helps him up). '' Ye he." Art any more 
than a steward ? Dost thou think because thou art virtuous 



32 TWELFTH NIGHT, 

there shall be no more cakes and ale ? {Snapping his fingers 
at Malvolio.) 

Clown. Yes, by Saint Anne ! and ginger shall be hot 
i'the mouth, too. {Holding Sir Toby l. of him,) 

Sir T. {turns suddenly^ nearly falling). Thou'rt i'the right. 
Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, 
Maria ! {Sits chair r. of table ; Clown on edge of table ^ 

Mal. Mistress Mary (Maria comes forward and curtseys), 
if you prized my lady's favor at anything more than contempt, 
you would not give means for this uncivil rule. She shall 
know of it, by this hand. {Turns up stage ^ meeting Sir An- 
drew ; zvaves him off.) 

Exit Malvolio, c. to l., hands to ears as all sing, 

Maria {follo7us hi7n up, mocki?ig him)^ Go shake your ears. 
{To back of table, c.) 

Sir a. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's 
a-hungry, to challenge him to the field, and then to break 
promise with him and make a fool of him. {Sits l. of table?) 

Sir T. Do't, knight ; I'll write thee a challenge, or I'll 
deliver thy indignation to him by»word of mouth. 

Maria {sits on edge of talk). Sweet Sir Toby, be patient 
for to-night ; since the youth of the Duke's was to-day with 
my lady she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, 
let me alone with him ; if I do not gull him into a nay word 
and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit 
enough to lie straight in my bed. I know I can do it. 

Sir T. Possess us, possess us ; tell us something of him. 

Maria. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. 

Sir a. Oh, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. 

Sir T. What, for being a Puritan ? Thy exquisite rea- 
son, dear knight ? {Pours contents of bowl in his tankard^ 

Sir a. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason 
good enough. {Laugh.) 

Maria. The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything con- 
stantly, but a time-pleaser ; an affectioned ass; so crammed, 
as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his ground of faith 
that all that look on him love him ; and on that vice in him 
will my revenge find notable cause to work. 

Sir T. What wilt thou do? 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



33 



Maria. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of 
love ; wherein, by the color of his beard, the shape of his leg, 
the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, he shall 
find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like 
my lady, your niece ; on a forgotten matter we can hardly 
make distinction of our hands. 

^\Vi.T. {kisses his ha7id to her). Excellent 1 I smell a 
device. 

Sir a. I have't in my nose, too. 

Sir T. He shall think by the letters that thou wilt drop, 
that they come from my niece, and that she is in love with him. 

Maria. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color. 

Sir a. And your horse now would make him an ass. 

Maria. Ass, I doubt not. 

Sir a. Oh, 'twill be admirable ! {Rises feebly and kisses 
both ha?ids to her. Sir Toby turns and discovers him.) 

Maria. Sport royal, 1 warrant you. I will plant you 
two, and let Fabian make a third, where he shall find the 
letter ; observe his construction of it. For this night to-bed, 
and dream on the event. » Farewell. {Taking her candle from 
table ^ exits, c. to l., laughing^ 

Sir T. Good night, Penthesilea. 

Sir a. Before me, she's a good wench. 

READY change* 

Sir T. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that adores me ; 
what o'that ? 

Sir a. I was adored once, too.' 

SirT. Let's to bed, knight. Thou had'st need send 
for more money. 

{Rises ^ taking the unlighted candle^ and staggers r. c. Sir A.'n- 
T>VJEW feebly rises and gets l. c. by aid of the table ^ taking 
lighted candle. Sir Toby, discovering that his caiidle is 
out, motions to Sir Andrew to give him a light. They 
approach cautiously for that purpose, miss, aud change 
places. They approach again ; when they meet c, Sir An- 
drew's candle is extinguished trying to light the other. At 
this they lock arms, first facijtg dijfere?it ways. Business 
ad libitum during dialogue to close of scene.) 



34 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



Sir a. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way 
out. 

Sir T. Send for money, knight ; if thou hast her not 
i'the end, call me Cut. 

Sir a. If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. 

Sir T. Come, come ; I'll go burn some sack, 'tis too late 
to go to bed now. (They lock arms, staggering.) Come, 
knight — come, knight. 

Exeunt c. to l. Business offallifig. 

CHANGE set* 

Scene II. — A street. Sce?te in one. 

Enter Sebastian a7id Antonio, l. i e. Sebastian down 
stage, his arm around Antonio's shoulder ; to c. 

Sebastian. I would not, by my will, have troubled you ; 
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, 
I will no further chide you. {At c.) 

Antonio. I could not stay behind you ; my desire, 
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth ; 
And not all love to see you, though so much 
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, 
But jealousy what might befall your travel, 
Being skilless in these parts, which to a stranger, 
Unguided and unfriended, often prove 
Rough and unhospitable. My willing love, 
The rather by these arguments of fear, 
Set forth in your pursuit. 

Seb. {grasping his hand). My kind Antonio, 
I can no other answer make but thanks. 
And thanks, and ever thanks. 

Ant. Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. 

Seb. {turns -l, from him). No, 'sooth, sir ; my determinate 
voyage is mere extravagancy. {Pause ; the?i turns bark, his 
r. hajid on Antonio's l. shoulder.) But I perceive in you so 
excellent a touch of modesty that you will not extort from me 
what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it charges me in 
manners the rather to express myself. You must know of 



TWELFTH N'lGlPT, ^^ 

me, then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called 
Roderigo. (Antonio shows surprise a?id recog?iition,) My 
father was that Sebastian of Messaline w^hom I know you 
have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both 
born in an hour. If the heavens had been pleased, 'would 
we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for some hour 
before you took me from the breach of the seaj was my sister 
drowned. 

Ant. Alas, the day ! {Hands clasped}) 

Seb a lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled 
me, was yet of many accounted beautiful ; but, though I could 
not overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her, 
she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is 
drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown 
her remembrance again with more. {Covers face with l. 
hand^ his R. seeking Antonio's. Crosses l., turns ; change of 
manner ) What is to do ? Shall we go see the relics of this 
town ? 

Ant. (c). To-morrow, sir ; best first go see your lodging. 

Seb. (l. c). I am not weary, and 'tis long to night. 
{Crossing r. ; looks of^.) 
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes 
With the memorials and the things of fame 
That do renown this city. 

Ant. 'Would you'd pardon me. 
I do not without danger wafk these streets. 
Once, in a sea-fight 'gainst Orsino's galleys, 
I did some service ; of such note, indeed. 
That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answered. 

READY change. 

Seb {comes c). Do not, then, walk too open. 
Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse. 
{Gives it) 
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, 
Is best to lodge ; I will bespeak our diet. 
Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge 
With viewing of the town ; there shall you have me. {Crosses 
L. ; stops as Sebastian speaks.) 
Seb. Why I your purse ? 



36 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 



Ant. (l. c). Haply your eye shall light upon some toy 
You have desire to purchase ; and your store, 
I think, is not for idle markets, sir. 

Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you for 
An hour. (^Goes r. ; Antonio at l. i e.) 

Ant. To the Elephant. 

Seb. I do remember. 

Exeunt, Sebastian, r., Antonio, l. i e. 

CHANGE set. 

Scene III. — A hall in Duke Orsino's palace. Scene in two, 

{Discover two Lords together, r. c. Valentine enters, c. 
from L., signifying the approach of the Duke. All turn 
and bow as Duke and Yiola enter, cfrom l. Duke to 
c, Valentine to the two Lords, r. c, Viola up l.) 

Duke {sittmg l. 07i couth). Come hither, boy. If ever 
thou shalt love, 
In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; 
For such as I am all true lovers are. 
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye 
Hath stayed upon some favor that it loves. 
Hath it not, boy ? {Motions that she sit on r. couch, which she does.) 

Viola. A little, by your favor. 

Duke. What kind of woman is't ? 

Viola. Of your complexion. 

Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years, i 'faith ? 

Viola. About your years, my lord. 

Duke. Too old, by heaven 1 Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfair — 
Mere longing wavering — sooner lost and won 
Than women's are. 

Viola. I think it well, my lord. 

Duke {touching her hand). Then let thy love be younger 
than thyself, 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



37 



Or thy affection cannot hold the bent : 
For women are as roses, whose fair flower, 
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour. 

Viola (rises). And so they are 1 Alas 1 that they are so^ 
To die even when they to perfection grow. 

Duke. Once more, Cesario, 

Get thee to yon same sovereign cruelty. {She comes c.) 
Tell her my love, more noble than the world, 
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ; 
The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her 
Tell her I hold as giddily as fortune ; 
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems 
That Nature pranks her in attracts my soul. 

Viola, But if she cannot love you, sir ? 

Duke. I cannot be so answered. 

Viola. 'Sooth, but you must. 

Say that some lady — as, perhaps, there is — 
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
As you have for Olivia ; you cannot love her ; 
You tell her so ; must she not then be answered ? 

Duke. There is no woman's sides 
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
As love doth give my heart. {Rises and crosses r. c.) Make 

no compare 
Between that love a woman can bear me 
And that I owe Olivia. {Turning, back to audience.^ 

Viola. Ay, but I know — 

Duke. What dost thou know ? 

Viola. Too well what love women to men may owe. 
In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
My father had a daughter loved a man, 
As it might be, perhaps, were I woman, 
1 should your lordship. 

Duke (r. c). And what's her history ? 

WARN curtain. 

Viola. A blank, my lord ^ she never told her love, 
But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud. 
Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought, 
And with a green and yellow melancholy 



38 



TIVELFTH NIGHT, 



She sat, like patience on a monument, 
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? 
We men may say more, swear more ; but, indeed, 
Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove 
Much in our vows, but little in our love. 

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? 

Viola. I am all the daughters of my father's house. 
And all the brothers too. {Aside.) And yet I know^ not. 

{Goes L., tur?ii?ig.) 
Sir, shall I to this lady ? 

Duke. Ay, that's the theme. (Viola up c.) 
To her in haste. Give her this jew^el. {He Joins Viola up c.) 

Say 
My love can give no place, bide no den ay. 

Exit Duke, c. to r. Viola looks at ri?ig a?iJ falls weeping on 

couch, 

RING curtain. 
CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

Scene. — Olivia's garden. Full stage ^ as in diagram. 




Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian, through laue, l. 

Sir T. Come thy ways, Signor Fabian. 

Fabian (c). Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 39 

sport let me be boiled to death with melancholy. (Sir Toby 
sits R. ; Sir Andrew drops l. c.) 

Sir T. (r. c), Would'st thou not be glad to have the 
niggardly, rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame ? 

Fab. I would exult, man; you know he brought me out 
of favor with my lady about a bear-baiting here. 

Sir T. To anger him, we'll have the bear again ; and we 
will fool him black and blue — shall we not, Sir Andrew ? 

Sir a. (l. c). An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 

Enter Maria, with a letter^ through lane^ l. 

Sir T. Here comes the little villain ! How now, my 
metal of India? 

Maria. Get ye all three into the box tree • — Malvolio's 
coming down this walk. He has been yonder i'the sun prac- 
tising behavior to his own shadow this half hour. Observe 
him, for the love of mockery ; for I know this letter will make 
a contemplative idiot of him. Come, in the name of jest- 
ing ! {The me7i hide the7/iselves behind set tree, r.) Lie thou 
there {throws down a letter^ ^ for here comes the trout that 
must be caught with tickling. 

Exit, through lane, l. 

Enter, diiri?ig above, Malvolio, l. i e., crosses stage, pos- 
ing as he goes; and exits R. i e. After he has disap- 
peared, the four who have retired up come out laughing. 
This is suddenly checked by Maria, who signs that Mal- 
volio is returni?tg. All hide agai?z, and Maria throivs 
letters, to l. ^;^^ exits. Sir Andrew, r., back, Sir Toby, 
c, back, and Fabian, l., back, hidiiig^ as Malvolio re-en- 
ters, R. I e. 

Mal. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria once told 
me she did affect me ; and I have heard herself come thus 
near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my com- 
plexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect 
than any one else that follows her. What should I think 
on't? {Sits on bench l.) 

Sir T. Here's an over-weening rogue ! 



40 TWELFTH NIGHT, 

Fab. Oh, peace ! Contemplation makes a rare turkey- 
cock of him ; how he jets under his advanced plumes ! 

Sir a. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue ! {Puts his head 
out ; they suppress him?) 

Sir T. Peace, I say ! 

Mal. To be Count Malvolio ! 

Sir T. Ah, rogue ! 

Sir a. Pistol him ! pistol him I {Repeat business^ 

Sir T. Peace, peace ! 

Mal. There is example for't ; the lady of the Strachy 
married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 

Sir a. Fie on him, Jazebel I {Repeat business.) 

Fab. Oh, peace ! Now he's deeply in ; look how imagina- 
tion blows him. 

Mal. Having been three months married to her, sitting 
in my state — 

Sir T. Oh, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye ! 

Mal. Calling my officers about me, in my branched vel- 
vet gown — having come from a day-bed where I have left 
Olivia sleeping — 

Sir T. Fire and brimstone ! 

Fab. Oh, peace, peace ! 

Mal. And then to have the humor of state ; and after a 
demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place, as I 
would they should do theirs — to ask for my kinsman Toby 1 

Sir T. Bolts and shackles ! 

Fab. Oh, peace, peace, peace ! now, now ! 

Mal. Seven of my people with an obedient start make 
out for him. I frown the while, and, perchance, wind up my 
watch or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches — 
courtesies there to me. 

Sir T. Shall this fellow live? {Forcing his ivay forward.) 

Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with cords, 
yet peace. {Fulls him back.) 

Mal. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my 
familiar smile with an austere regard of control — 

Sir T. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the lips 
then ? {Shakes his fist at Malvolio.) 

Mal. Saying, " Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me 
on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech." 

Sir T. What, what ? 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



41 



Mal. '' You must amend your drunkenness.'* 

Sir T. Out, scab ! {Rushes out ; both the others pull him 
back.) 

Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of her plot. 

Mal. " Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with 
a fooUsh knight " — 

Sir a. That's me, I warrant you. 

Mal. " One Sir Andrew." {As if dismissing him, tiir?is to 
L. on be?ich^ crossing his leg.) 

Sir a. I knew 'twas I ; for many do call me fool. 

Mal. {{sees letter, takes out glass, rubs it with handkerchief, 
rises, and is about to take up letter). What employment have 
we here ? 

Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 

(Mal. takes up the letter. As he stoops to do so, the three up stage 
look out. He pauses, as if heari?ig them, looks l. and v.., 
the?i up stage. They dodge. As he turns they all re-ap- 
pear agai7i. He pauses, again looks r. and L., and finally 
lifts letter^ 

Sir T. Oh, peace ! an' the spirit of humors intimate read- 
ing aloud to him. 

Mal. {blows dust from letter). By my life, this is my lady's 
hand 1 These be her very Cs, her U^s and her T^s, and thus 
makes she her great P^s. It is in contempt of question her 
hand. 

Sir a. Her Cs, her U's and her T's! Whj that — 

Mal. {reads). "To. the unknown beloved, this and my 
good wishes." Her very phrases! By your leave, wax. 
Soft — and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses 
to seal; 'tis my lady; to whom should this be? {Ope?is the 
letter.) 

Fab. This wins him, liver and all. 

Mal. {reads). ''Jove knows I love; 
But who ? 
Lips do not move, 
No man must know." 
" No man must know." What follows ? the numbers altered ! 
'' No man must know." — If this should be thee, Malvolio ! 

Sir T. Marry, hang thee, brock! 



^2 TWELFTH XIGIIT 

Mal. (reads). ''I may command where I adore ; 

But silence, like a Lucrece knife, 
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore. 
M, O, A, I, doth sway my life." 

Fab. a fustian riddle ! 

Sir T. Excellent wench, say I ! 

Mal. '^ M, O, A, I, doth sway my life." {Business with 
glass.) Nay, but first let me see — let me see — let me see. 
(Gets a little l. c.) 

Fab. What dish o'poison has she dressed him ! 

Sir T. And with what wing the stannyel checks at it I 

Mal. ^' I may command where I adore." Why, she may 
command me ; I serve her, she is my lady. Why, this is 
evident to any formal capacity. There is no obstruction in 
this ; and the end — what should that alphabetical position 
portend ? If I could make that resemble something in me. 
Softly ! M^ O, A, I, {Tur?is aiid walks r. c. They duck as 
he passes?) 

Sir T. Oh, ay ! make up that — he is now at a cold scent. 

Mal. Af — Malvolio ! — M — why that begins my name. 
{Gets c.) 

Fab. Did I not say he would work it out ? The cur is 
excellent at faults. 

Mal. M — but then there is no consonancy in the sequel ; 
that suffers under probation. A should follow, but O does. 

Fab. And O shall end, I hope. 

Sir T. Ay, or I'll cudgel him and make him cry O ! 

Mal. And then /comes behind. 

Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, you might see 
more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. 

Mal. {business with glass). M, O, A, 1 1 This simulation 
is not as the former — and yet, to crush this a little, it would 
bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. 
Soft — here follows prose. {Reads.) "If this fall into thy 
hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee ; but be not 
afraid of greatness ! Some are born great, some achieve 
greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. To 
inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble 
slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly 
with servants. She thus advises thee that sighs for thee. 
Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished 



7 WELFTH NIGHT, 4^ 

to see thee ever cross-gartered 1 I say, remember. Go to 1 
— thou art made, if thou desirest to be so ; if not, let me 
see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy 
to touch fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter 
services with thee. The Fortunate Unhappy.'"' 

{Moves L. c, then R; c.) 

Daylight and champaign discovers not more ; this is open. 
I will be proud. I will read politic authors. I will baffle 
Sir Toby. I will wash off gross acquaintance. I will be 
point-de-vice, the very man. I do not now fool myself to let 
imagination jade me ; for every reason excites to this, that 
my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings 
of late ; she did praise my leg being cross-gartered 1 And 
in this {to2cching letter) she manifests herself to my love, and 
with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her 
liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I will be strange, 
stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the 
swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised I 
{Going L. and kissi?jg letter^ his eye lights ojt postscript^ Here 
is yet a postscript. {Reads.) " Thou canst not choose but 
know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear 
in thy smiling. {At this the heads behind Iwn that have 
gradually been thrust out are sudde?tly draivn back again ^ 
Thy smiles become thee well ; therefore, in my presence, 
still smile, dear my sweet, I pr'ythee ! " Jove, I thank thee ! 
I will smile ; I will do everything that thou wilt have me. I 
will smile, ho, ho ! Smile, ho, ho I Always smile, ho, ho ! 

Exit, L. I E. They advafice from behind the trees after a pause. 

Omnes {laughing and holding sides). Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Fab. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension 
of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. 

Sir T. {slapping his kiiee). I could marry the wench for 
this device. 

Sir a. So could I too. {Imitates^ 

Sir T. And ask no other dowry with her but such an- 
other jest. {Repeat}) 

Sir a. Nor I neither. {Same.) 



44 TWELFTH NJGHT 

Sir T. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. (Fabian up^ 
Enter Maria, l., crossing Fabian, 7vho drops down l. 

Sir T. {kneels to her). Wilt thou set thy foot o'my neck? 

Sir a. Or o'mine either ? (^I?nitates.) 

Sir T. Shall I become thy bond-slave ? 

Sir a. I'faith, or I either? {Both rise.) 

Sir T. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that 
when the image of it leaves him he must run mad. 

Maria. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him ? 
{All laugh.) 

Sir T. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife. 

Maria. If you will, then, see the fruits of the sport, mark 
his first approach before my lady. He will come to her in 
yellow stockings {laugh), and 'tis a color she abhors ; and 
cross-gartered, a fashion she detests {laugh; Sir Andrew 
has a stitch i?t his side ; business) ; and he will smile upon her, 
which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being 
addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn 
him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, fol- 
low me. 

Sir T. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil 
of wit ! {Puts his arm about her and kisses her.) 

Sir a. I'll make one too. {Imitates ; Maria slaps him 
and ru7is up /^ Sir Toby.) 

Exeunt Sir Toby, Maria ajid Fabian through la7ie l., Sir 
Andrew ru7ining after. 

Enter Clown, r. i e., playifig on a tabor, meeti7ig Viola, who 
enters l. i e. 

Viola. Save thee, friend, and thy music ; dost thou live 
by thy tabor ? 

Clown. No, sir ; I live by the church. {Sits bench r.) 

Viola. Art thou a churchman ? 

Clown. No such matter, sir ; I do live by the church, for 
I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the 
church. 

Viola (7uith r. knee on l. of bench). I warrant thou art a 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 



45 



merry fellow and carest for nothing. Art not thou the Lady 
Olivia's fool ? 

Clown. No, indeed, sir ; the Lady Olivia has no folly ; 
she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; and fools are 
as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings — the husband's 
the bigger. I am, indeed, not her fool but her corrupter of 
words. 

Viola. I saw^ thee late at the Duke Orsino's. 

Clown. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the 
sun — it shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the 
fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress ; 
I think I saw your wisdom there. 

Viola. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with 
thee. {Crosses to c.) Hold, there's expenses for thee. 
(Gives money to Clown, who jumps up and goes to her.) 

Clown (c). Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, 
send thee a beard ! {Coimts money ^ 

Viola. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am almost sick for 
one {aside), though I would not have it grow on my chin. 
{Aloud.) Is thy lady within ? 

Clown. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir ? 

Viola. Yes, being kept together and put to use. 

Clown. I would play Lord Pandaras of Phrygia, sir, to 
bring a Cressida to this Troilus. 

Viola. I understand you, sir. {Gives him more mo?iey.) 
'Tis well begged. 

Clown. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them 
whence you come ; who you are and what you would are out 
of my welkin — I might say element, but the word is over- 
worn. 

Exit, R. 

Viola {folloivs him up stage to c). This fellow's wise 
enough to play the fool, 
And to do that well craves a kind of wit. 
He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
The quality of persons and the time. 
And, like the haggard, check at every feather 
That comes before his eye. {Drops to l. c.) This is a prac- 
tice 
As full of labor as a wise man's art. 



46 TWELFTH XIGHT. 

Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew /r^w r. up. 

Sir T. Save you, gentleman. 

Viola. And you, sir. 

Sir T. Will you encounter the house ? My niece is desir- 
ous you should enter, if your trade be to her. 

Viola. I am bound to your niece, sir ; I mean, she is the 
list of my voyage. 

Sir T. Taste your legs, sir — put them to motion. 

Viola. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I un- 
derstand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. 

Sir T. I mean to go, sir ; to enter. 

Viola. I will answer you with gait and entrance ; but we 
are prevented. (Sir Toby joifis Sir Andrew at r. c. as 
Olivia and Maria enter /ro;;^ r. up^ Most excellent, ac- 
complished lady, the heavens rain odors on you ! 

(Olivia, to c, slightly bows ; Maria stands l.) 

Sir a. (r. c, r. ^Sir Toby). That youth's a rare court- 
ier ! *' Rain odors " — well ! 

Viola. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own 
most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. 

Sir a. " Odors, pregnant and vouchsafed ! " I'll get 'em 
all three ready. 

Oli. (c.) Leave me to my hearing. 

(Sir Toby and Maria exeunt l., by lane.) 

Sir a. {lingering), *' Odors — pregnant — vouchsafed 1 " 

(Olivia looks ster?ily at him and stafnps her foot ; he runs after 
the others in alarm ^ crying^ " Sir Toby I Sir Toby/^^) 

Oli. (sits o?i bench ^ r., and fans herself^. Give me your 
hand, sir. 

Viola (r. c, goes to her and kneels). My duty, madam, 
and most humble service. 

Oli. What is your name ? {Checks an impulse to caress 
the bowed head.) 

Viola. Cesario is your servant's name, fair Princess. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



47 



Oli. My servant, sir ! 'Twas never merry world 
Since lowly feigning was called compliment. 
You are servant to the Duke Orsino, youth ? 

Viola. And he is yours, and he must needs be yours. 
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 

Oli. For him, I think not on him ; for his thoughts. 
Would they were blanks, rather than filled with me ! 

Viola. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
On his behalf. 

Oli. Oh, by your leave, I pray you ; 

I bade you never speak again of him ; 
But, would you undertake another suit, 
I had rather hear you to solicit that 
Than music from the spheres. 

Viola. Dear lady — {Rises and steps hack to c.) 

Oli. Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, 
After the last enchantment you did here, 
A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse 
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you. 
Under your hard construction must I sit 
To force that on you in a shameful cunning 
Which you knew none of yours ; what might you think ? 
Have you not set mine honor at the stake, 
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts 
That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your receiving 
Enough is shown ; a cypress, not a bosom. 
Hides my heart ; so let me hear you speak. 

Viola. I pity you. 

Oli. {rismg and makmg movemejit toward her). That's a 
degree to love. 

Viola {recoiling). No, not a grise ; for 'tis a vulgar proof 
That very oft we pity enemies. {Pause.) 

Oli. Why then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again. 
Oh, world, how apt the poor are to be proud ! {^Crosses to l. c. ; 

Viola to r. c, as clock strikes^ 
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. {Retur?ii?ig c.) 
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you ; 
And yet, when 'wit and youth is come to harvest. 
Your wife is like to reap a proper man. 
There lies your w^ay, due west. {Foi?iti?ig l.) 

Viola. Then westward ho I {Crosses to la?ie^ l., bowifig.) 



48 TWELFTH NIGHT. 

Grace and good disposition ^tend your ladyship. 
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me ? 

Oli. Stay. {N\o\.k pauses^ 
I pr'ythee, tell me what thou think'st of me. 

Viola. That you do think you are not what you are. {A 
step do2v?i.) 

Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. 

Viola. Then think you right ; I am not what I am. 

Oli. I would you were as I would have you be ! 

WARN curtain* 

Viola. Would it be better, madam, than I am ? 
I wish it might ; for now I am your fool. {Up i., again.) 

Oli. Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
By maidhood, honor, truth and everything, 
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride. 
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. {Goes to her ; 
Viola gently repels her.) 

Viola. By innocence, I swear, and by my youth, 
I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, 
And that no woman has ; nor never none 
Shall mistress be of it save I alone. 
And so, adieu, good madam ; never more 
Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 

Exit, L. Olivia goes to lane and looks after her as 

RING curtain. 
CURTAIN. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 49 



ACT IV. 

Scene. — Olivia's garden. Full stage, 

{Discover Sir Andrew a7id Sir Toby seated on bench r. ; 
Fabian lying on stage c.) 

Sir a. (risi?tg, to c, putting his hat o?t). No, faith, I'll not 
stay a jot longer. 

Sir T. (winks at Fabian). Thy reason, dear venom ; 
give thy reason. 

Fab. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. 

Sir a. Marry, I saw your niece do more favors to the 
Duke's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me ; I 
saw't this moment in the garden. {Back to them.) 

Sir T. Did she see thee the while, old boy ? Tell me 
that. ( Winks again at Fabian.) 

Sir A. {turning to them). As plain as I see you now. 

Fab. {rises). This was a great argument of love in her 
toward you. 

Sir a. {angered). 'Slight ! Will you make an ass o'me ? 

Fab. {goes l., slappiiig hiin on the back). I will prove it 
legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. 

Sir T. {laughs). And they have been grand jury men 
since before Noah was a sailor. 

Fab. She did show favor to the youth in your sight only 
to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valor, to put fire 
in your heart {taps him. on chest with back of hafid) and brim- 
stone in your liver ! {Repeat^ You should then have ac- 
costed her ; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the 
mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. 
{Repeat ; Sir Andrew dodges.) This was looked for at your 
hand, and this was balked ; you are now sailed into the 
north of my lady's opinion, where you will hang like an icicle 
on a Dutchman's beard unless you do redeem it by some 
laudable attempt, either of valor or policy. 

Sir a. An' it be any way it must be with valor, for policy 
I hate. 

Sir T. {rises and goes to l., hand on shoulder). Why, then, 



SP^ 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valor. Challenge 
me the Duke's youth to fight with him ; hurt him in eleven 
places ; my niece shall take note of it. And assure thyself, 
there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in 
man's commendation with woman than report of valor. 

Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. 

Sir a. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him ? 

Sir T. Go, write it in a martial hand. Be curst and 
brief ; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of 
invention. Taunt him with the license of ink; if thou thou^st 
him some thrice, it shall not be amiss ! and as many lies as 
will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big 
enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down. Go 
about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink ; though thou 
write with a goose-pen, no matter — about it. 

(Sir Andrew braces up a?id exits, r. i e. Others laugh.) 

Fab. This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby. 

Sir T. I have been dear to him, lad ; some two thou- 
sand strong, or so. 

Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him ; but you'll not 
deliver it ? 

Sir T. Never trust me, then ; and by all means stir on 
the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot 
hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened, and 
you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a 
flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. (Both laugh.) 

Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no 
great presage of cruelty. 

Sir T. (r. c). Look, where the youngest wren of nine 
comes. 

Enter Maria, l., through lane ; Fabian to l. c. 

Maria (c). If you desire the spleen, and will laugh your- 
self into stitches, follow me ! Yon gull, Malvolio, is turned 
heathen, a very renegado. He's in yellow stockings. {All 
laugh ^ 

Sir T. And cross-gartered ? {Laugh again.) 

Maria. Most villainously. He does obey every point of 



TWELFTH NIGHT 5 1 

the letter that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his 
face into more lines than are in a map ! You have not seen 
such a thing as 'tis. (They start to go up.) 

Sir T. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. 

Maria (l. c, looking q^R.). Hush I My lady 1 

(^T/ie two 77ie7i cross to r, and exeunt r. i e.) 
Enter OiAYixfrom r. u. e. Maria bon's to her as she goes c. 

Oli. (c). Where is Malvolio? He is sad and civil. 
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes. {Crosses to l.c.) 
Where is Malvolio ? 

Maria {a step to c). He's coming, madam ; 

But in very strange manner. He is sure possessed, madam. 

Oli. What, what's the matter ? Does he r.ave ? 

Maria. No, madam, 
He does nothing but smile ; your ladyship 
Were best to have some guard about you if he come, 
For sure the man is tainted in his wits. 

Oli. Go, call him hither. (Maria starts to go l., but see- 
ing Malvolio comi?tg, stops and turns ^ smothering laughter^ 
I'm as mad as he. 
If sad and merry madness equal be. {Sits l. c.) 

Enter Malvolio, through lane l., in yellow stockings and cross- 

gartered. 

How now, Malvolio ? {In surprise^ 

Mal. Sweet lady, ho ! ho ! {Smiles fantastically and 
poses.) 

Oli. SmiPst thou ? 
I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. 

Mal. Sad, lady? I could be sad; this does make some 
obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering I But what of 
that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as 
the very true sonnet is : Please one, and please all. 
Hoi ho! 

Oli. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter 
with thee ? 

Mal. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs I 



52 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. 
I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. 

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio ? 

Mal. To bed ! Ay, sweetheart (Olivia rises, alarmed, 
a?id makes turn to L. c.) ! and I'll come to thee. 

Oli. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so, and 
kiss thy hand so oft ? 

Maria {coming forward^. How do you, MalvoUo ? 

Mal. {scornfully). At your request? Yes; nightingales 
answer daws. 

Maria. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness 
before my lady ? 

Mal. {ignoring her), '^ Be not afraid of greatness " — 'twas 
well writ. 

(Olivia recoils, droppiiig flowers^ 

Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio ? 
Mal. ^' Some are born great " — 

(Olivia ^^^i- up l. of bench^ 

Oll Ha ? 

Mal. " Some achieve greatness " — 

(Olivia crosses behind be7ich^ 

Oli. What say'st thou ? 

Mal. ** And some have greatness thrust upon them." 

Oli. (r. c). Heaven restore thee I 

Mal. ''Remember who commended thy yellow stock- 
ings ! " — 

Oli. {recoiling). My yellow stockings ? 

Mal. " And wished to see thee cross-gartered.'' 

Oli. {repeat). Cross-gartered ? 

Mal. " Go to ; thou art made, if thou desirest to be so 1 " — 
{Picks up flowers she has dropped^ 

Oli. Am I made ? 

Mal. " If not, let me see thee a servant still." {Poses^ 

Oli. {cli7igs to Maria, r. c). Why, this is very midsum- 
mer madness. 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 5^ 



Enter Fabian, r. i e. 



Fab. Madam — (breaks off as he sees Malvolio, and smoth- 
ers laughter; he and IAkria^ facing up stage, both convulsed ; 
then struggling to speak) the young gentleman of the Duke 
Orsino's is returned ; I could hardly entreat him back. He 
attends your ladyship^s pleasure. 

Oli. I'll come to him. Good Maria, let this fellow be 
looked to. Where's my cousin Toby ? {To Maria, looki7igat 
Malvolio.) Let some of my people have a special care 
of him ; I would not have him miscarry for the half of my 
dowry. 

Exit Olivia, r. u. e. Maria drops to Fabian, r c, nudging 
him. Exeunt, r. i e., laughing, 

Mal. (c). Oh, ho! do you come near me now? No 
worse man than Sir Toby to look to me ? This concurs 
directly with the letter. She sends him on purpose that I 
may appear stubborn to him ; for she incites me to that in 
the letter. I have limed her ! And when she went away 
now, " Let this fellow be looked to ! '' Fellow ! not Malvo- 
lio, nor after my degree, but fellow ! Why, everything ad- 
heres together. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and 
he is to be thanked. {Gets l. c.) 

Sir T. {without, r.). Which way is he, in the name of 
sanctity ? If all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and 
Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him 1 

Enter Fabian, Sir Toby and Maria, r. i e. 

Fab. (r. c). Here he is, here he is ! How is't with you, 
sir ! How is it with you, man ? 

Mal. (c). Go off, I discard you ; let me enjoy my pri- 
vate ; go off. {All express pity in action^ 

Maria (peeping over Sir Toby's shoulder). Lo, how hollow 
the fiend speaks within him ! Did not I tell you ? Sir Toby, 
my lady prays you to have a care of him. 

Mal. Ah ! ah ! does she so ? 

Sir T. Go to, go to ; peace, peace ; we must deal gently 
with him. Let me alone. {Goes to Malvolio.) How do 



j4 TWELFTH NIGHT 

you, Malvolio? Haw is't with you? What, man 1 Defy 
the devil I Consider he's an enemy to mankind. 

Mal. Do you know what you say ? 

Maria. La, you, an' you speak ill of the devil, how he 
takes it at heart ! Pray God, he be not bewitched. 

Sir T. Why, how now, my bawcock ? How dost thou, 
chuck ? {Slaps Malvolio on shoulder.) 

Mal. {turni7ig to him indignantly ; then away). Sir I 

Sir T. Ay, Biddy, come with me ! What, man ! it is not 
for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan ! Hang him, foul 
collier ! {Crossing Fabian.) 

Maria. Get him to say his prayers. Good Sir Toby, get 
him to pray ! 

Mal. (turns on her ; she hides behind Fabian). My pray- 
ers, minx? 

Maria. No, I w^arrant you, he will not hear of godliness. 

Mal. {crosses to r. c). Go, hang yourselves all I You 
are idle, shallow things. I am not of your element; you 
shall know more hereafter. 

Exit, R. I E. 

(Maria, laughing^ drops do7vn l. a7id sits on bench) 

All {laugh). Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Sir T. (c). Is't possible ? 

Fab. (r. c). If this were played upon a stage, now, I 
could condemn it as an improbable fiction. {To Sir Toby.) 

Sir T. Come {rising and taki?ig Fabian's arm), we'll have 
him in a dark room and bound ! 

Maria. The house will be the quieter. 

Sir T. But see, but see ! 

Fab. More matter for a May morning. 

Enter Sir Andrew with a letter, r. u. e. 

Sir a. Here's the challenge — read it ; I warrant 
there's vinegar and pepper in't. {Gives it to Sir Toby and 
gets R. c.) 

Fab. (l. c). Is't so saucy ? 

Sir a. Ay, is it, I warrant him ; do but read. 



TWELFTH NIGHT. ^j^ 

Sir T. (c). Give me. {Reads.) " Youth, whatsoever 
thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow ! " {Looks at P'abian.) 

Fab. Good and valiant ! 

Sir T. (reads). " Wonder not nor admire not in thy mind 
why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't 1 " 
{Looks at Fabian.) 

Fab. a good note ; that keeps you from the blow of the 
law. 

Sir T. {reads). '* Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in 
my sight she uses thee kindly ; but thou liest in thy throat, 
that is not the matter I challenge thee for ! '^ {Nudges 
Fabian ; Maria laughs loudly^ 

Fab. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense-less ! 

Sir T. {reads). '' I will way-lay thee going home, where, 
if it be thy chance to kill me''- — 

Fab. Good ! (Sir Andrew looks doubtful}) 

Sir T. {reads). ''Thou killest me like a rogue and a vil- 
lain ! " (Sir Andrew reassured}) 

Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law ! Good ! 

Sir T. {reads). " Fare thee well ; and God have mercy 
upon one of our souls ! He may have mercy upon mine ! 
but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, 
as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy. ^ 

Andrew Aguecheek." 
If this letter move him not, his legs cannot ! I'll give't him. 
{Putting it ill his belt ; Maria rises a?id crosses l. c.) 

Fab. You may have very fit occasion for't ; he is now in 
some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. 

Sir T. Go, Sir Andrew ; scout me for him at the corner 
of the garden, like a bum-bailiff ; so soon as ever thou seest 
him, draw ; and, as thou draw'st, swear horrible. Away I 

Sir a. Nay, let me alone for swearing. 

Exit, R. I E. All laugh. 

Sir T. Now will not I deliver his letter, for the behavior 
of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity 
and breeding ; therefore this letter, being so excellently ig- 
norant, will breed no terror in the youth ; he will find it 
comes from a clod-pole- But, sir, I will deliver his challenge 
by word of mouth ; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of 



56 TWELFTH NIGHT 

valor ; and drive the gentleman, as I know his youth will 
aptly receive it, into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, 
fury and impetuosity. This will so fright them both, that 
they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. 

{They turn up stage ^ but seeing Olivia a?td Y101.A coming, pause!) 

Fab. Here he comes with your niece ; give them way till 
he take leave, and presently after him. 

Sir T. I will meditate the while upon some horrid mes- 
sage for a challenge. 

Exeunt l., through lane. 
Enter Viola and Olivia, r. u. e. 

Oli. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, 
And laid mine honor too unchary on't. 
There's something in me that reproves my fault. (Viola 

drops L. c.) 
But such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
That it but mocks reproof. 

Viola. With the same 'havior that your passion bears, 
Go on my master's griefs. 

Oli. Here, wear this jewel for me ; 'tis my picture ; 
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you. (Viola, with 

gesture, turns a7vay?) 
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. 
What shall you ask of me that I'll deny. 
That, honor saved, may upon asking give ? 

Viola. Nothing but this — your true love for my master. 

Oli. (moves r. c). How with mine honor may I give him 
that 
Which I have given to you ? 

Viola {going c). I will acquit you. 

Oli, Well, come again to-morrow ; fare thee well. {Goes 
up c. ; turns.) 
A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell I 

Exit, R. u. E. 



TWELFTH NIGHT, ^j 

} 
(Viola, sad, passes to r. c, tur?is^ and meets Sir Toby at c.) 

Enter Sir Toby and Fabian from lane l., and Maria, who 
goes up r. with Fabian. 

Sir T. {bowing). Gentleman, God save thee. 

Viola. And you, sir. 

Sir T. (l. c). That defence thou hast, betake thee to't. 
Of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know 
not ; but thy intercepter, full of despight, bloody as the 
hunter, attends thee ! Dismount thy tuck, be yare in 
thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful and 
deadly. 

Viola (c). You mistake, sir, I am sure ; no man hath 
any quarrel to me ; my remembrance is very free and clear 
from any image of offence done to any man. 

Sir T. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you ; therefore, 
if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard ; 
for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill and 
wrath can furnish man withal. 

Viola. I pray you, sir, what is he ? 

Sir T. He is a knight, dubbed with unbacked rapier and 
on carpet consideration ; but he is a devil in private brawl ! 
souls and bodies hath he divorced three (Viola, whom Sir 
Toby has gradually backed to r. duri?ig above^ falls on be?ich at 
this) ; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable 
that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and 
sepulchre ! Hob, nob, is his word ! give't or take't. 

(Viola rises and tries to escape up c, but Sir Toby a7id Fabian 
prevent ; Maria exits, r. u. e.) 

Viola. I will return again into the house and desire some 
conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. 

Sir T. (c). Back you shall not to the house unless you 
undertake that with me, which with as much safety you 
might answer him ; therefore, on ! or strip your sword stark 
naked, for meddle you must, that's certain, or forswear to 
wear iron about you. 

Viola (l. c). This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech 
you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight 



58 TWELFTH NIGHT 

what my offence to him is ; it is something of my negligence, 
nothing of my purpose. 

Sir T. I will do so. {She tries to run away but Sir Toby 
holds her. She sits on bench L.) Signor Fabian, stay you by 
this gentleman till my return. 

Exit, R. I E. 

Viola. Tray you, sir, do you know of this matter ? 

Fab. (sits^, I know the knight is incensed against you, 
even to a mortal arbitrement ; but nothing of the circum- 
stance more. 

Viola. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? 

Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by 
his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valor. 
He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody and fatal oppo- 
site that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. 
{Rises,) Will you walk towards him ? I will make your 
peace with him if I can. 

{Viola /alls back on bench!) 

Viola. I shall be much bound to you for't ; I am one 
that would rather go with sir priest than sir knight ; I care 
not who knows so much of my mettle. 

(Fabian takes her by the arm and leads her c. As they get 
there Sir Toby is heard off^,^ sayings ^' Sir Andrew I Oh^ 
Sir Andreia /^^ Viola breaks away and runs off, l. i e., 
followed by Fabian.) 

Enter Sir Toby with Sir Andrew, in a great fright^ r. i e.. 
Sir Toby pulling him with both hands. 

Sir T. (r. c). Why, man, he's a very devil ! 

Sir a. Oh ! 

Sir T. I have not seen such a virago. I had a pass 
with him — rapier, scabbard and all — and he gives me the 
stuck-in — 

Sir a. Oh ! 

Sir T. With such a mortal motion that it is inevitable ! 
They say he has been fencer to the Sophy. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



59 



Sir a. (r. c). Plague on't ! I'll not meddle with him. 

Sir T. Ay, but he will not now be pacified ; Fabian can 
scarce hold him yonder. 

Sir a. Plague on't ! an' I thought he had been valiant 
and so cunning in fence I'd have seen him damned ere I'd 
have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll 
give him my horse, gray Capilet. {^At r. i e.) 

Enter Fabian //////>/^ Viola, l. i e. 

Sir T. I'll make the motion. Stand here, make a good 
show on't. (Aside.) Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as 
I ride you. {To Fabian.) I have his horse to take up the 
quarrel ; I have Dersuaded him the youth's a devil 1 

O O O O 

Sir Andrew. Sir Toby. Fabian. Viola. 

Fab. {to Sir Toby). He is as horribly conceited of him, 
and pants and looks pale as if a bear were at his heels. 

(Sir Andrew nms offK. and Viola l. Sir Toby am/ Fabian 
pursue them and bring them back.) 

Sir T. {as he enters, l. i e., pushifigYioLA, who faces him ; 
others same busi?iess at R. i e.). There's no remedy, sir I 
He will fight with you for his oath's sake I Marry, he hath 
better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now 
scarce to be worth talking of; therefore draw for the sup- 
portance of his vow ; he protests he will not hurt you. 

(Sir Toby ^//^ Fabian cross Sir Andrew andYioi.A, leaving 
them 7iearest c.) 

Viola {draivs her sword). Pray God defend me ! {Aside.) 
A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of 
a man. 

Fab. {to Viola). Give ground if you see him furious ! 
{Fats her on the shoulder ; she collapses ; he instructs her.) 

Sir T. Come, Sir Andrew {slaps him on the shoulder ; he 
collapses)^ there's no remedy; the gentleman will, for his 



6o TWELFTH NIGHT. 

honor's sake, have one bout with you. He cannot, by the 
duello, avoid it ; but he has promised me, as a gentleman 
and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on ! to't ! 

Sir a. {draws). Pray God he keep his oath ! 

Viola. I do assure you 'tis against my will. 

{They fight ad libitum. Sir Toby and Fabian urge on Sir 
Andrew and Yiq-la.) 

Enter Antonio, through lane l. ; he runs between Sir An- 
drew and Viola. Sir Andrew runs away up c. 

Ant. (c). Put up your sword. If this young gentleman 
Have done offence, I take the fault on me ; 
If you offend him, I for him defy you ! 

Sir T. You, sir ! why, what are you ? 

Ant. (draws). One, sir, that for his love dares yet do 
more 
Than you have heard him brag to you he will. 

Sir T. (draws). Nay, if you be an undertaker, 
I am for you. 

(Sir Toby arid Antonio fight. Fabian, up c, Iooki?ig off; 
\io\.x follows.) 

Fab. (up c). Oh, good Sir Toby, hold ! here come the 
officers. 

Enter Officers through lane, l. 

Sir T. (to Antonio). I'll be with you anon. (Antonio 
shows great alarm. Sir Toby sheaths his sword.) Sir knight. 
Sir Andrew ! Where are you ? 

Sir a. {appearing in a tree back). Here I am. (Co7nes 
down, meeting Viola up stage.) 

Sir T. (laughs). What, man! Come on I (Brings Sir 
Andrew forward?) 

Viola (advances c). Pray, sir (to Sir Andrew), put up 
your sword, if you please. 

Sir a. Marry, will I, sir ; and, for that I promised you, 
I'll be as good as my word ! He will bear you easily and 
reins well, (foins Sir Toby r. c.) 



TWELFTH NIGHT 6 1 

First Officer. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit 
Of Duke Orsino. 

Ant. (l. c). You do mistake me, sir. 

First Offi. No, sir, no jot; I know your favor well. 

Ant. {gives his sword to Officer, who goes up and stands 
R. of opening to la?te). I must obey. {To Viola.) This 

comes with seeking you ; 
But there's no remedy. Now my necessity 
Makes me to ask you for my purse. It grieves me 
Much more for what I cannot do for you 
Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed ; 
But be of comfort. 

First Offi. Come, sir, away. 

Ant. (l. c). I must entreat of you some of that money. 

Viola (c). ^Vhat money, sir ? 
For thy fair kindness ygu have showed me here, 
And, part being prompted by your present trouble, 
Out of my lean and low ability 
I'll lend you something ; my having is not much ; 
I'll make division of my present with you. 
Hold, there is half my coffer. {Offers money.) 

Ant. Will you deny me now ? 
Is't possible that my deserts to you 
Can lack persuasion "^ Do not tempt my misery, 
Lest that it make me so unsound a man 
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
That I have done for you. 

Viola. I know of none ; 

Nor know I you by voice or any feature. 

Ant. O Heavens themselves ! 

First Offi. Come, sir, I pray you, go. 

Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here 
I snatched one-half out of the jaws of death ; 
And to his image, which, methought, did promise 
Most venerable worth, did I devotion. 
But oh, how vile an idol proves this god ! 
Thou hast, Sebastian (Viola turns away a little), done good 

feature shame. 
In nature there's no blemish but the mind ; 
None can be called deformed but the unkind. {Goes up to 
lane J turning there,) 



62 TWELFTH NIGHT 

Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil 

Are empty trunks, o'erflourished by the devil. 

Exeunt Antonio and Officers through lane, l. 

Sir T. Come hither, knight ; come hither, Fabian. 

[They retire together up to set tree, r.) 

Viola. He named Sebastian ; I my brother know 
Yet living in my glass ; even such, and so, 
In favor was my brother ; and he went 
Still in this fashion, color, ornament, 
For him I imitate. 

Prove true, imagination ! oh, prove true ! 
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you 1 

Exit through la7ie L., quickly. 

Sir T. {to c. Sir Andrew a7id Fabian to r. c). A very 
dishonest, paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare ! His 
dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity 
and denying him ; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian. 

Fab. a coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. 

Sir a. 'Slid, Fll after him again and beat him. 

Sir T. {slaps him on back and passes him over). Do, cuff 
him soundly ; but never draw thy sword. 

Sir a. An I do not — 

Exit througti lane, l. 

Fab. Come, let's see the event. {Gets c.) 

Sir T. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet. 

Exeunt through lane, l. 

Enter Sebastian and Clown, l. i e. 

Clown (l. c). Will you make me believe that I am not 
sent for you ? 

Seb, I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me ; 



TWELFTH NIGHT 63 

There's money for thee — if you tarry longer 
I shall give worse payment. 

Clown {goes to him). By my troth, thou hast an open 
hand. {Goes r. c, clinking money a?id turns ^i" Sir Andrew, 
Sir Toby a?id Fabian QiiiQvfrom lane, l. Sir Toby remains 
up,) 

Sir a. Now, sir, have I met you again ? There's for 
you ! {Stroking Sebastian with flat of sword,) 

Seb. {draws his sword). Why, there's for thee, and there, 
and there ! Are all the people mad ? {Beating Sir Andrew 
with it over to r. c). 

Sir T. {down l. of Sebastian, holdiftg him). Hold, sir, or 
I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. 

Clown. This will I tell my lady straight. I would not 
be in some of your coats for twopence. 

Exit, R. u. E. 

Sir T. {struggling). Come on, sir; hold! 

Sir a. {gets behind beiicJi). Nay, let him alone. I'll go 
another way to work with him ; I'll have an action of battery 
against him if there be any law in Illyria ! Though I struck 
him first, yet it's no matter for that. 

Seb. I will be free from thee ! {Breaking away.) 
What would 'st thou now ? {Steps back.) 

If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. {Attitude 
of defence.) 

Sir T. What, what ? {Draws.) Nay, then I must have 
an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. 

{They fight l. c. ; Sir Toby is driven r. c.) 

Enter Olivia, r. u. e. She comes c. ; they separate and Sebas- 
tian removes his cap. 

Oli. (c). Hold, Toby ! on thy life I charge thee, hold I 

SirT. (r. c). Madam? 

Oli. Will it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch, 
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves. 
Where manners ne'er were preached ! Out of my sight ! 



64 TWELFTH NIGHT, 

Be not offended, dear Cesario. (Sir Toby approaches^ bowing^ 
Rudesby, begone ! (^Fomtmg l. 2 e.) 
Sir T. Come along, knight. 

Exit, L. 2 E., with Fabian. 

Oli. And you, sir, follow him. 
Sir a. Oh, oh 1 Sir Toby ! 

Exit, L. 2 E., after them. 

Oli. I pr'ythee, gentle friend (Sebastian, wondering^ turns 
L. c). 
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway 
In this uncivil and unjust extent 

WARN curtain. 

' Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, 
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
This ruffian hath botched up, that thou thereby 
May'st smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go ; 
Do not deny. {Goes up.) 

Seb. What relish is in this ? How runs the stream ? 
Or I am mad or else this is a dream. 
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ; 
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep ! 

Oli. {stops up c). Nay, come, I pr'ythee ; ^vould thou'dst 
be ruled by me ! 

Seb. Madam, I will. {Goes quickly to her ; they embrace^ 

RING curtain. 

Oli. Oh, say so and so be I 

Exeunt, r. u. e. 
CURTAIN. 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 65 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — Outside of 0\AV\k!'$> house. Scene ift one. Practi- 
cable window in Jlat, low doivn^ for Malvolio to speak 
through. 

Enter Maria, with a black gown and hood^ a7id Clown, l. i e. 

Maria. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown and hood; 
make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate ; do it 
quickly. I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. 

Exit, L. I E. 

Clown. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself 
in't ; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in 
such a gown. (Gets c.) 

Enter Sir Toby and Maria, l. i e. 

Sir T. (l. c). Jove bless thee, master parson. 
Clown {attitude of be7iedictio7t). Bo?ias dies, Sir Toby. 
Sir T. To him, Sir Topas. 

Clown (c, speaking to window in flat). What, hoa, I say ! 
Peace in this prison ! {Li an assu?ned voice.) 

Sir T. The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave. 
Mal. {within). Who calls there? 

(Sir Toby andyi\Ki\, highly amused, flatten themselves against 
wall beside windoiv, so as not to be seen by Malvolio.) 

Clown. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Mal- 
volio, the lunatic. 

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my 
lady. {Comes to window, hands manacled?) 

Clown. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! How vexest thou this 
man ? Talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? 

Sir T. Well said, master Parson. 



66 TWELFTH NIGHT 

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged ; good Sir 
Topas, do not think I am mad ; they have laid me here in 
hideous darkness* 

Clown. Sayest thou that house is dark ? 

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas. 

(Sir Toby laughs ; Maria restrains him!) 

Clown. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no dark- 
ness but ignorance ; in which thou art more puzzled than 
the Egyptians in their fog. 

Mal. I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though 
ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say there was never 
man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are ; make 
the trial of it in any constant question. 

Clown. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning 
wild-fowl ? 

Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit 
a bird. 

Clown. What thinkest thou of his opinion ? 

Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his 
opinion. 

Clown. Fare thee well ; remain thou still in darkness. 
Thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of 
thy wits ; and fear to kill a woodcock lest thou dispossess 
the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. {/oi?is Sir Toby 
and Maria, l. c. ; she helps him to take off gown^ 

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas ! 

Sir T. (bowing). My most exquisite Sir Topas ! 

Clown. Nay, I am for all waters. 

Mal. Thou might'st have done this without thy hood 
and gown ; he sees thee not. 

Sir T. To him in thine own voice and bring me word 
how thou findest him. Come by and by to my chamber. 

Exeunt Sir Toby and Maria, l. i e. 

Clown (sings, l. c). " Hey Robin, jolly Robin, 

Tell me how thy lady does." 
Mal. (appears at 7vindow). Fool, fool — good fool — 
Clown. Who calls, ha ? 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 



67 



Mal. Good fool I As ever thou wilt deserve well at my 
hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper ; as I am 
a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't. 

Clown. Master Malvolio ! 

Mal. Ay, good fool. 

Clown. Alas, sir, how fell you beside your five wits ? 

Mal. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abused. 
I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. 

Clown. But as well ? Then you are mad, indeed, if you 
be no better in your wits than a fool. 

READY change^ 

Mal. Good fool, some ink, paper and light, and convey 
what I will set down to my lady. It shall advantage thee 
more than ever the bearing of letter did. 

Clown. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you 
not mad, indeed, or do you but counterfeit ? 

Mal. Beheve me, I am not ; I tell thee true. 

Clown. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his 
brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink. 

Mal. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree ; I 
pr'ythee, begone. 

Clown (sings), *' I am gone, sir, 
And anon, sir, 
I'll be with you again," etc. 

Exit, L. I E. Malvolio disappears. 

CHANGE set 

Scene II. — Olivia's garden. Full stage ^ as before. 

Enter Sebastian, r u. e. 

Seb. (c). This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; 
This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't: 
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, 
Yet 'tis not madness. There's something in't 
That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. {Turtis tip 
stage.) 



68 TWELFTH NIGHT. 

Enter Olivia, r. u. e. 

Oll (c). Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean 
well, 
Now go with me into the chantry by, 
And underneath that consecrated roof 
Plight me the full assurance of your faith, 
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
May live at peace. What do you say ? 

Seb. I'll follow. 
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. {They embrace^ 

And heavens so shine, 
That they may fairly note this act of mine ! 

Exeunt, r. u. e. 

Enter d.ovfi^^ followed by Fabian, r. i e. Clown sits l. of 

seat R. 

Fab. (sits by him). Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his 
letter. {Tries to take letter^ 

Clown {evading him). Good master Fabian, grant me 
another request. 

Fab. Anything. 

Clown. Do not desire to see this letter. 

Fab. This is, to give a dog and in recompense desire my 
dog again. {Rises,) The Duke Orsino — 

Exit, R. I E. 
Enter Duke, Viola and two Gentlemen through lane^ l. 

Duke (c). Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friend ? 

Clown (r. c). Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. 

Duke. I know thee well. If you will let your lady know 
I am here to speak with her and bring her along with you, it 
may awake my bounty further. 

Clown. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come 
again. As you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap ; I will 
awake it anon. 



TWELFTH NIGHT go 

Exit R. I E. Orsino, laughing, goes to bench r. c. and sits. 

Enter Antonto and the Officers through la7ie, l. They take 
Antonio to l. c. and leave hint, retiring up. 

Viola {drops v.,, just up stage from Duke). Here comes 
the man, sir, that did rescue me. 

Duke. That face of his I do remember well ; 
Yet when I saw it last it was besmeared 
As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. 

Viola. He did me kindness, sir ; drew on my side ; 
But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me, 
I know not what 'twas, but distraction. 

Duke (r.). Notable pirate 1 thou salt-water thief I 
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies. 
Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear. 
Hast made thine enemies ? 

Ant. (l. c). Orsino, noble sir, 
Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me ; 
Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, 
Though I confess, on base and ground enough, 
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither. 
That most ungrateful boy there by your side 
From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth 
Did I redeem ; a wreck past hope he was. 
His life I gave him ; for his sake 
Did I expose myself, pure for his lov«. 
Into the danger of this adverse town ; 
Drew to defend him when he was beset ; 
Where, being apprehended, his false cunning, 
Not meaning to partake with me in danger. 
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, 
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing 
While one would wink ; denied me mine own purse 
Which I had recommended to his use 
Not half an hour before. 

Viola (r. c). How can this be ? 

Duke. When came he to this town? {Rises and 
goes c.) 

Ant. ^ To-day, my lord ; and for three months before 
No interim — not a minute's vacancy — 



7 o TWELFTH NIGHT 

Both day and night did we keep company. {Makes gesture 
of incredulity and goes up,) 
Duke. Here comes the Countess ; now heaven walks on 
earth. 
But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness. 
Three months this youth hath tended upon me. 
But more of that anon. Take him aside. 

(Antonio ^;^^ Officers retire up stage l. of bench l.) 

Enter Olivia and three Ladies from r. u. e. Orsino offers 
hand and leads her to c. 

Oli. What would, my lord, but that he may not have, 
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ? 
(Turnifig to r.) Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 

Viola. Madam ! {Drops down r. c.) 

Duke (c). Gracious Olivia — 

Oli. (c). What do you say, Cesario ? 

Viola. My lord would speak ; my duty hushes me. 

Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
It is as fat and fulsome to my ear 
As howling after music. 

Duke. Still so cruel ? 

Oli. Still so constant, lord. 

Duke. What ! to perverseness ? You uncivil lady ! 
What shall I do ? 

Oll Even what it please my lord that shall become him. 

Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, 
Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death, 
Kill what I love ? But hear me this. 
Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still ; 
But this, your minion, whom I know you love. 
And whom, by Heaven, I swear I tender dearly, 
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye 
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. 
Come, boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mischief. 
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love 
To spite a raven's heart within a dove. 

Exeunt Duke a7id Gentlemen through la?ie^ l. 



TWELFTH NIGHT 7 i 

Viola {starts tofollou^. And I, most jocund, apt and will- 
ingly, 
To do you rest a thousand deaths would die. 

Oli. Where goes Cesario ? 

Viola. After him I love 
More than I love these eyes, more than my life ; 
If I do feign, you witnesses above 
Punish my life for tainting of my love I {Crosses Olivia.) 

Oli. Ah, me, detested ! how am I beguiled ! 

Viola {returns c). Who does beguile you ? Who does 
do you wrong ? 

Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself ? Is it so long ? 

Enter Duke at l. 

Duke {to Viola). Come away. 

Oli. Whither, my lord ? Cesario, husband, stay ! {^Goes 
to Viola, c. ; Viola gets l. c.) 

Duke. Husband 1 {Drops r. c.) 

Oli. Ay, husband ; can he that deny ? 

Duke. Her husband, sirrah? (^A step forutard,) 

Viola. No, my lord, not I. 

Oli. Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. 
Be that thou know^'st thou art, and then thou art 
As great as that thou fear'st. 
I here unfold what, thou must know, 
Hath newly passed between this youth and me. 
A contract of eternal bond of love, 
Confirmed by mutual joinder of our hands, 
Strengthened by interchangement of our rings, 
And all the ceremony of this compact. 

Duke (r. c). Oh, thou dissembling cub I What wilt 
thou be 
When time hath sowed a grizzle on thy case ? 
Farewell, and take her ; but direct thy feet 
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. {Goes r. 
a?id sits oji be?ich.) 

Viola (l. c). My lord, I do protest — 

Oli. (c, stoppifig her). Oh ! do not swear ; 
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. {Turns 
up stage to her Ladies ; Viola crosses to Duke, and ap- 
peals to hi?n. He repulses her and she goes up a little.) 



72 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 



Enter Sir Andrew, l. 2 e., crying with a broken head. 

Sir a. Oh, oh ! for the love of God, a surgeon ! Send 
one presently to Sir Toby. {Gets c.) 

Oli. What's the matter ? 

Sir a. He has broke my head across, and has given Sir 
Toby a bloody coxcomb, too ! For the love of God, your 
help ! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. 

Oli. {up c). Who has done this, Sir Andrew ? 

(Viola drops r. c. up>) 

Sir a. The Duke's gentleman, one Cesario. We took 
him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. 

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ? 

Sir a. {sees Viola ; starts), Od's lifelings, here he is ! 
You broke my head for nothing ; and that that I did I was 
set on to do't by Sir Toby. 

Viola. Why do you speak to me ? I never hurt you. 
You drew your sword upon me without cause ; 
But I bespake you fair and hurt you not. 

Sir a. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt you have hurt me. 
I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. 

Sir T. {without, l.). Holla, Sir Andrew ! Where are 
you? 

Sir a. Here comes Sir Toby halting. But if he had not 
been in drink, he would have tickled you other gates than 
he did! 

Enter Sir Toby, drimk, with his forehead bleeding, led by the 
Clown, l. 2 e. 

Duke (r.). How now, gentleman? How is't with you? 

SirT. (l. c). That's all one ; he has hurt me, and there's 
the end on't. Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, sot ? 

Clown (l. c). Oh, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone. 

Sir T. Then he's a rogue — I hate a {slips from Clown's 
hold) drunken rogue. 

Oli. {points r. i e.). Away with him I Who hath made 
this havoc with them ? 

Sir a. {gets r. ^Sir Toby). I'll help you, Sir Toby, be- 
cause we'll be dressed together. 



see him and Viola together. As he crosses to l. c, Anto- 



TWELFTH NIGHT, 73 

Sir T. Will you help — an ass-head and a coxcomb 
And a knave ? A thin-faced knave, a gull ? {Beating him 
with hat as they cross.) 
Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be looked to. 

Exeunt Sir Andrew, Sir Toby and Clown, r. i e. 

Enter Sebastian, l. 2 e. General astonishment by all as they 
see him and 
nio droJ>s L. 

Seb. (l. c). I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins 
man ; 
But had it been the brother of my blood 
I must have done no less with wit and safety. 

(Olivia takes a step down ; Duke rises^ 

You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that 
I do perceive it hath offended you. 
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
We made each other but so late ago. 

Duke. One face, one voice, one habit and two persons I 
A natural perspective that is and is not. (Drops r. c.) 

Seb. {turni?ig to him). Antonio, oh, my dear Antonio! 
How have the hours racked and tortured me 
Since I have lost thee ! 

Ant, Sebastian, are you ? 

Seb. Fearest thou that, Antonio ? 

Ant. How have you made division of yourself ? 
An apple cleft in two is not more twin 
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian ? 

(Sebastian turns ; sees Viola ; pause.) 

Oli. Most wonderful ! 

Seb. Do I stand there ? I never had a brother. 

I had a sister 
Whom the blind waves and surges have devoured. 
Of charity {to Viola), what kin are you to me ? 
What countryman ? what name ? what parentage ? 



74 TWELFTH NIGHT 

Viola {comes r. c). Of Messaline. Sebastian was my 
father ; 
Such a Sebastian was my brother, too, 
So went he suited to his watery tomb. 
If spirits can assume both form and suit, 
You come to fright us. 

Seb. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, ^ 
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek 
And say — Thrice welcome, drowned Viola ! 

Viola. If nothing lets to make us happy both, 
But this my masculine usurped attire, 
Do not embrace me till each circumstance 
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump 
That I am Viola. 

{They meet c. and embrace^ 

Seb. {to Olivia). So comes it, lady, you have been mis- 
took. 
Duke {^goes c). If this be so, as yet the glass seems 
true, 
I shall have share in this most happy wrack ! 

Enter Fabian, r. i e. ; shows surprise. 

Boy {to Viola), thou hast said to me a thousand times 
Thou never should'st love woman like to me. 
And all those sayings will I over-swear. 

Viola {goes to him). And all those swearings keep as tr.;j 
in soul 
As doth that orbed continent, the fire. 
That severs day from night. 

Duke. Give me thy hand {she does so), 

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 

Viola. The captain that did bring me first on shore 
Hath my maid's garments. He, upon some action. 
Is now in durance at Malvolio's suit, 
A gentleman and follower of my lady's. 

Oli. He shall enlarge him. See him deUvered, Fabian ; 
bring him hither. 



TWELFTH NIGHT yj 

Exit Fabian, r. u. e. 

And yet, alas ! now I remember me, 

They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. 

My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, 

To think me as well a sister as a wife, 

One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, 

Here at my house, and at my proper cost. 

Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer — 
Yo^T master quits you. i^To Viola.) And, for your service 

done him, 
Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be 
Your master's mistress. 

(Duke, Viola, Sebastian and Olivia go up l. ; Antonio 

joifis them^ 

Enter Malvolio, Fabian aitd Clown, r. u. e., Makva follow- 
ing. 

Duke (over his l. shoulder). Is this the madman? 

Oli. {drops L. c). Ay, my lord, this same. 

How now, Malvolio ? 

Mal. (c). Madam, you have done me wrong — 
Notorious wrong. 

(Fabian, Maria and Clown drop r. c, smothering their 

laughter^ 

Oli. Have I, Malvolio ? 

Mal. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter. 
(Gives Olivia the letter^ 
You must not now deny it is your hand ; 
Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase, 
Or say 'tis not your seal nor your invention. 

Oli. Alas, Malvolio ! this is not my writing. 
Though I confess much like the character. 
But, out of question, 'tis Maria's hand. 
And, now I do bethink me, it was she 
First told me thou wast mad. 

Fab. (r. c). Good madam, hear me speak. 
Most freely I confess myself and Toby 



76 



TWELFTH NIGHT 



Set this device against Malvolio here, 
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts 
We had conceived against him. 

Oli. Alas, poor fool ! How have they baffled thee ? 
{/oi?is group up stage.) 

Clown {comes forward c. as Malvolio slowly tears the let- 
ter in bits). Why — "Some are born great, some achieve 
greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." 
{Crossing back and forth as Malvolio turns.) But do you 
remember? "Madam, why laugh you at such a barren 
rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged." And thus the 
whirligig of time brings in his revenges. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mal. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. 

Exit, L. I.E., throwing scraps of paper on stage. 

Oli. He hath been most notoriously abused. 
Duke. Pursue him and entreat him to a peace. 

Exeunt Fabian and two Servants, l. i e. 

Go, officers ; 
We do discharge you of your prisoner. 

Exeunt Officers through lane l., after returni^ig Antonio's 

sword, 

Antonio, thou hast well deserved our thanks. 

Thou hast a noble spirit. 
And, as Sebastian's friend, be ever near him. 
Cesario, come ; 

For so you shall be while you are a man ; 
But when in other habits you are seen, 

Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen. {With Viola to 
bench r. ; they sit.) 

WARN curtain. 

{Dance by Characters ; at close.) 

RING curtain. 
CURTAIN. 



A NEW PLAY FOR SCHOOLS. 



THE ROMANCERS. 

A Comedy in Three Acts* 

By EDMOND ROSTAND. 

AUTHOR OF " Cyrano de Bekgerac," *' L'Aiglon," etc. 
Translated by Mary Hendee. 

Five male, one female characters and supernumerary characters ad libitum. 
Scene, one exterior, the same, with minor alterations, for all three acts. 
Costumes, fanciful. Plays a full evening. This admirable comedy is reprinted 
in answer to a large demand, and is strongly recommended to educators and 
others seeking a play of high literary quality that is at the same time amusing 
and wholesome. Delightfully and delicately humorous, its whimsical theme 
is full of dramatic interest, and cannot fail to please any audience that is 
superior to mere theatrical brutalities. As an example of dramaturgic skill 
and adroitness, it is a text-book of play-making. In nothing of M. Rostand's 
that has been seen in English has he appeared to such advantage. Admirably 
suited at all points for school performances. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 



CHARACTERS. 



Percinet, a lover. 
Straforel, a bravo. 
BERGAMiN,/a^/ier of Percinet. 



'Pasquii^ot, father of Sylvette. 

Blaise, a yardeiier. 

Sylyette, daughter of Pasquinot. 



Swordsmen, Musicians, Negroes, Torch-bearers, a Notary, four Bourgeois, etc. 
The scene is laid where you will, provided the costumes are pretty 



A SCARCE SOUVENIR. 



ADELAIDE NEILSON. 

A Biographical Souvenir. 
By LAURA C. HOLLOWAY* 

WITH NINE PHOTOGRAPHIC ILLUSTRATIONS OF THIS POPULAR ACTRESS. 

This beautiful and interesting souvenir of the late Adelaide Neilson has long 
been in the category of " scarce books," selling at auction, when offered, at 
two dollars and a half and upwards. We have, by accident, discovered a small 
remainder of this title which Ave are able to offer, as long as the copies last, at 
fifty cents a copy. This brief life of a lady who was at once the greatest stage 
beauty and the most celebrated actress of her time is illustrated by photograpic 
portraits in character and in private life, as follows : 

As Cymbeline. 

As Viola. (Twelfth Night.) 

As Juliet. 

As Juliet. 
Graye in Brompton Cemetery. 
If there survive any of the hundreds of thousands who adored this lady thirty 
years ago they will do well, if they do not already treasure a copy, to order 
one at once, as the lot in our hands is small and will be soon exhausted, 

PRICE 50 CENTS. 



In Street Dress, 

As Juliet. 

As Pauline. (Lady of Lyons.) 

As Juliet. 



NEW ENTERTAINMENTS. 



A MODERN Sewing Society. 

An Entertainment in One Scene* 

FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY. 

By O* W, GLEASON, 

AUTHOR OF " THE CREOLE BELLES," " TROUBLE IN SANTA CLAUS LAND," ETC. 

Fourteen female characters. Costumes Diodern ; no scenery required. May- 
be easily presented on a bare platform. Plays forty-tive minutes. A humorous 
but good-natured picture of this much-abused institution, briskly and viva- 
ciously written and full of "points." Its characters, as appears from the 
following cast, offer a wide variety of opportunity for humorous character- 
ization and for local hits and satire of local characters and institutions. 

PRICE \S CENTS- 



CHARACTERS: 



Mrs. President, aged 40 ^ dignified. 

Mrs. Knowall, aged 45, excitable. 

Mrs. Wise, aged 35, calm. 

Mrs. Short, aged 40, pert. 

Mrs. Green, aged 50, countrified. 

Mrs. Brown, aged 50, very deaf. 

Mrs. Jones, aged 30, stylish. 



Mrs. Gossip, aged 45, talkative. 
Mrs. Truthful, aged 40, honest. 
Miss Chatter, aged 25, up-to-date. 
Miss Flutter, aged 25, mischievous. 
Miss Simple, age\l 35, plain. 
Miss Pert, aged 35, disagreeable. 
Miss Small, aged 22, very pretty. 



THE BACHELOR'S REVERIE. 

c^n Entertainment in One Scene* 
By GRACE B. FAXON, 

AUTHOR OF "MAIDS AND MATRONS," ETC. 

One male, nine female characters and a lady or gentleman to read the verses 
that accompany the tableaux. The text calls for a simple interior scene, but 
this is not indispensable, the apparatus for showing the tableaux alone being 
essential. A very pretty and elastic entertainment, lasting from twelve 
minutes to half an hour, according to the number of pictures shown, the num- 
ber of encores and incidental features, and the employment or non-employment 
of musical accessories. This popular entertainment is here offered in print 
for the first time. It depicts a lonely bachelor in tlie act of dreaming of the 
joys of matrimony, All the popular— and some unpopular tvpes of girlhood 
appear to him in a vision and from these he finally makes his choice, only to 
be thrown down. Very highly recommended. 

PRICE 25 CENTS* 



CHARACTERS 



The Bachelor. 

The Country Girl. 

The Golf Girl. 

The Coquette. 

The Belle of the Ball. 



The Nun. 

The Hunting Girl. 
The College Girl. 
The Military Girl. 
The Widow. 



A Lady or Gentlejnlan to Serve as Reader 



NEW PLAYS. 



HALF-BACK SANDY. 

cA College Comedy in Three (Ads. 
By NORMAN LEE SWARTOUT, 

Seventeen male, two female characters, six of the men being unimportant 
Intended, of course, to be played by male characters only. Costumes modern 
and football togs; scenery, varied, but not insuperably difficult, consisting ol 
one exterior and two interiors. A capital farce-comedy, i)enetrate<l with the 
American college atmosphere and the spirit of the great college game of foot- 
ball. Like its stage relatives, " Strongiieart " and " The College Widow "—its 
story turns upon the struggle of two rival colleges for the possession of a crack 
player, but the note of this piece is more farcical and extravagant than that of 
its fellows, and it is in this and other respects better suited for amateur per- 
formance. The confusion of identity that surrounds the effective character of 
the colored girl. Sue, is side-splitting, and the dramatic value of the serious 
interest surrounding the coveted Sandy^ very great. Originally presented by 
The University of Rochester Dramatic Club, and strongly reconimended for 
college performances in general. Can be played only by payment of a royalty 
of $10.00 to the author. Plays a full evening. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 

"Sandy" S^iith. CHARACTERS* 

JosiAH Krop His uncle 

Philip Krop His cousin, of Queenstotcn CoUeye 

Bill Short Philip's friend, of Queenstown College 

Kenxeth StJMNER \ ... of Kingston College 

Percy Gordon Captain of the Kingston football team 

Dick Hart A sophomore 

"Babe" Van Twiller A freshman 

Joe Fleetwood The college sport 

Fred Jones \ 

Karl Woodstone f 

Arthur Medrow >- Students 

Frank Thurston I 
James Russel ) 
Professor Dryden . Authority onAncient Histonj Chauffeur. 

J, Booth MacReady A retired actor A Voice. 

Mabel Sumner Sister of Kenneth Sue. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I.— Exterior of Krop's house in the Adirondacks. Early September. 
Act IL— a student's bungalow at Kingston on the eve of the great football 
match between Kingston and Queenstown. 

Act III.— Professor Dryden's recitation room. The afternoon of the game. 



THE WHOLE TRUTH 

A Comedietta in One cAd. 
By LOUISE BRONSON WEST* 

Two male, nine female characters. Costumes, modern and elegant ; scen- 
ery, an easy interior, affording great scope for tasteful decoration, if desired. 
A bright and vivacious little piece in which the absolute necessity for conven- 
tional mendacity is strikingly and humorously illustrated. Christine Ashley 
undertakes to tell the exact truth for a single day on a wager with her fiancee, 
and finds her Waterloo very early in the day, after a series of staggering social 
disasters. Cleverly imagined, and brightly written. Recommended for parlor 
performance. 

PRICE / J5 CENTS. 



NEW p; 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

III 



I ill 
014 067 822 3 



AT RANDOM RUN. 

A Drama in Three Ads^ 
By GORDAN V, MAY. 

AUTHOR OF " BAIl HAYEX," ETC. 

Six raale, four female characters. Modern costumes ; scenery, three interiors, 
none at all difficult. Plays a full evening. An ingenious, up-to-date melodrama, 
full of excitement and dramatic interest. Strong characters, thrilling situ- 
ations, and plenty of action. Strongly recommended to a good club that is in 
search of something that will thrill an audience. Chance for specialties by two 
of the characters, if desired. 

PRICE J5 CENTS. 



CHARACTERS: 

John Twiggers, with both feet in the grave. 

Randolph Keeves, a hero by force of cii^cumstances. 

Howard Hedden, not as good as he looks. 

Dick Leggett, office boy and actor. 

Tom Carr, ivho acts for Bedden. 

Mr. Ajvios Hall, held for ransom. 

Alice Hall, in search of her father. 

Dora Walker, typewriter^ and member of the team of Leggett and Walker. 

Nellie Carr, a rose among thorns. 

Mother Greenleaf, a mountain hecate. 



SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. — Offic'=' of Twiggers & Company. Two firms and an " infirm." The 

overy. 
Act 11. — ndom Run. The counterfeiters' den. Springing the trap. 

Act ni.— ome of John Twiggers. Christian Science. Closing accounts. 



SMOKE UP. 

A Vaudemlte Sketch in One Ad. 
By HARRY W- OSBORNE, 

One male, one female characters. Scene, the front of a cigar s*"ore, easily 
faked. Costumes modern. Plays fifteen minutes. An exceptionally original 
and etf ective sketch for vaudeville nse or for amateur performance. For Dutch 
comedifm and soubrette, v\'ith chance for specialty for both. Bright, snappy 
dialogue. Great chance in the idea to work up special business. 

PRICE J5 CENTS^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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